


If Life Could Give Me One Blessing, It Would Be You

by eprnam



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Strangulation, Violence, Whipping, captured Geralt, dub-con kissing, like a year later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eprnam/pseuds/eprnam
Summary: “We’re going to get him back.” Jaskier promised Roach as they galloped down the road. Geralt was in trouble and no matter how the witcher felt about the subject, Jaskier was his friend, and friends helped each other. He didn’t know how much help a bard like him would even be, but he had to try nonetheless.Or: Geralt is in trouble and this time Jaskier needs to be the hero.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Roach, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 132
Kudos: 1006





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like everyone else, I've fallen into the deep pit that is the Witcher and loving Jaskier, so along came this fic. It's based on the show, but I have stated reading the books and playing the game so we'll see how things progress.

Jaskier hadn’t seen Geralt for almost a year, and considering the way they had parted, Jaskier wasn’t exactly in any rush to see the witcher again. However, when he happened to spot Roach tied up outside the tavern of the town he was passing through, he figured he might as well stop in and say hello. 

Jaskier wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was still a bit hurt by the things the witcher had said to him on the mountain, but he missed Geralt all the same, he just hoped the man wasn’t still angry with him. 

“Hello beautiful.” Jaskier fondly greeted the horse as he neared the tavern, he noticed that her ears were pinned back and her tail was swishing violently, she stamped her hooves against the ground when he approached her. Jaskier couldn’t remember ever seeing Roach being anything other than calm, nothing seemed to phase her, so her obvious agitation was alarming to say the least. 

“What’s wrong girl? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He asked, if even Roach was upset with him, that didn't bode well for how Geralt would react to seeing him. She nudged his chest lightly with her head, dispelling his worry. “I missed you too.” Jaskier chuckled before continuing more seriously, “Is it Geralt? Is he alright?” Roach stamped her foot again, and her nostrils flared, Jaskier was getting more concerned by the second. “I’ll just go check on him then shall I? He’s probably frightened all the locals by now. I won’t be but a moment.” Jaskier told the horse, trying to sound jovial and calm so as to not upset her more. 

He stroked her neck briefly before heading toward the tavern. Something was up, he had no idea what, but he needed to find Geralt as soon as possible. If something was about to go down, it was always better to have the witcher on hand. This probably wouldn’t make Geralt change his mind about anything he said- what with bad stuff happening as soon as Jaskier arrived, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. 

The inside of the tavern was just the same as any other, people drinking and laughing and telling stories, it would be the perfect place for the bard to sing a few songs and earn some coin, but that was about the furthest thing from his mind right then. He looked around the tavern, but didn’t see the witcher anywhere, not even in the dark secluded corner, so he made his way over to the innkeeper.

“What can I do for ya?” The man at the bar asked Jaskier when he approached.

“I was um, looking for a man. White hair, yellow eyes; has the personality of a particularly angry bear more often than not?” 

The innkeep looked at him silently for a moment as if expecting Jaskier to be having a laugh. “I ain’t seen no one like that ‘round here, and I’m glad for it.” 

Jaskier grimaced, “Right, thanks anyway.”

The innkeep glared at him, “You gonna order something or what?”

“Oh, um, I’ll just have an ale please.” Jaskier didn’t really feel like drinking, but maybe if he hung around Geralt might show up... he had to eventually. 

Jaskier sat in a corner of the tavern and nursed his drink, doing his best to tune out the noise around him. It worked well enough until one of the patrons started talking about a witcher.

“‘Don’t mess with a witcher’ they all say, ‘cut ya open from neck to groin they will’. What a laugh, me an my boy here took one down with nary even a scratch!” 

Jaskier glanced quickly behind him, seeing two burly, armored men drinking ale and laughing loudly, a tavern wench on each of their laps. Jaskier turned his head back and stared down at his ale, listening intently to what the men were gloating about.

“So this woman- never said who she was come to think of it- anyway she comes up to us right, and before we even get to try and lay the moves on her, she’s all ‘I need you to catch me a witcher’ and Bruno and I just looked at each other and laughed right in her face! But she didn’t crack a smile so we played along. So I says ‘Why in the hell would we want to do that?’ and she pulls out the biggest bag of coin I ever seen and says ‘because I’ll pay you handsomely.’ And we couldn’t really turn that down now could we?” The man laughed.

Jaskier grit his teeth as he listened. The fact that these men were still alive meant they succeeded, or they were lying, either way it didn’t mean it had to be Geralt they were talking about right? But Roach was here… maybe that was just a coincidence?

“But how ever did you manage to take down a witcher and survive?” Asked one of the women. Jaskier was wondering the same damn thing, sure the men looked tough, but compared to a witcher? Compared to Geralt? They were nothing.

“That’s what I asked her!” Said the other man, “Me and Gregor ain’t no fools.” 

“No we ain’t! But then she pulls out this vial of clear liquid, and says, we gotta ask the witcher to help us with a job, and tells us to take him out into the woods and make camp where we’re supposed to slip the stuff into his drink or on his food; throw it in his face for all she cares. ‘And once that’s done,' she says, ‘you should be able to easily subdue him.’ So I said ‘Fuck it, alright.’ Then she gave us this little glass ball and told us to smash it on the ground when we had the witcher.” 

“Why do you think she wanted some random witcher?” Mused one of the women.

“Wasn’t random at all, she was pretty particular ‘bout that actually. She wanted the Butcher of Blaviken himself, Geralt of Rivia!” The men laughed. “Said we could keep his horse and weapons too.”

Jaskier stood up so fast from his seat that he knocked his drink over, the innkeeper looked over at him and glared again, but Jaskier was already heading toward the door. The men hardly even spared him a glance as he rushed past, they just kept regaling the women with their story. 

“It all went off without a hitch! Thought we’d have some trouble getting him to drink the stuff, but he seemed pretty distracted, didn’t even notice Bruno slipping it into his drink. Then all it took was a few good punches and he was down.”

Jaskier flung the door open,clenching his fists against the urge to do something very stupid and try to fight everyone in the bar. 

“So then I smashed the ball on the floor and some men appeared out of a freaking magic portal and dragged the witcher away.” 

That was the last thing Jaskier heard before he stomped outside and the door swung shut behind him.

He ran over to Roach, and quickly untied her from the post. “We have to leave right now okay?” Jaskier said quietly with clear urgency in his voice, he only paused a moment in indecision before getting into the saddle and directing Roach South out of town. He didn’t even know which direction he should go, but right now, getting Roach away from those men was the top priority. Geralt only really let Jaskier ride Roach when it was a life or death situation, Jaskier dearly hoped this wasn’t that, but honestly, it was close enough.

“We’re going to get him back.” Jaskier promised Roach as they galloped down the road. Geralt was in trouble and no matter how the witcher felt about the subject, Jaskier was his friend, and friends helped each other. He didn’t know how much help a bard like him would even be, but he had to try nonetheless. Maybe if luck was on his side, Geralt will have already broken out by the time Jaskier arrived… wherever it is that the witcher was being held. 

He should probably try and find Yennefer as well, the people who took Geralt obviously had magic, and that was the women's specialty. It was possible that she was the one behind all this; her and Geralt had parted ways in an even worse way than Geralt and himself. Jaskier didn’t think so though, she freaked him out, but he was pretty sure she meant well. He just hoped that when it came down to it, that she cared enough about the witcher to help him when he was in trouble. 

Either way, the first step was to get away from those men, then he would figure out what to do and where to go next. 

When Jaskier felt that he had made it a good enough distance away from the town and the men residing there, he decided to make camp for the night. The sky had steadily darkened as he rode till he could hardly see the path in front of him, so there wasn’t much choice in the matter anyway. 

He hopped off of Roach and lead her into the woods lining the road, hoping that the cover would protect them from anything that might be lurking about. He decided to forego lighting a fire so as to not draw unwanted attention to himself and set up his bed roll next to a large tree. 

Jaskier gave Roach a carrot he had in his bag, and snacked on a piece of bread himself. “Sorry girl, I’ll get you some oats when we reach the next town, and we can try and find some information on Geralt or Yennefer- whatever comes first.” 

He really hoped someone had the information he was looking for, cause right now he was flying blind. Of course those men probably knew more than they were telling- or that he stuck around to hear, but if Jaskier never saw them again it would be too soon. He hadn’t heard much about Yennefer in the year since the dragon hunt, he hadn’t been looking for her of course- quite the opposite in fact- but she wasn’t exactly low key. It was much more likely he would find information on her whereabouts than on Geralt’s, but ideally that would work out just as well- if not better, in the long run. Jaskier had zero clue how to go about finding and saving Geralt, the whole knight in shining armor thing wasn’t really part of his skill set, he would much rather be singing about a daringly heroic rescue than actually taking part in one. Yennefer though, she could probably use some crazy sorcerer tracking magic and like located Geralt with his blood or something- Jaskier figured that was something she would have, she was creepy like that.

Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed, he would rather do this without involving Yennefer, but he wasn’t going to take chances when it came to Geralt’s life. If Geralt wanted to be mad at Jaskier afterwards, that was fine, because at least that meant he was alive.

Geralt had to be alive, there was no acceptable alternative.

With that thought, Jaskier drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A voice boomed above him, rousing Jaskier from his slumber.

“Looks like a fucking horse thief if you ask me.” Another voice sneered. Jaskier opened his eyes and stared up in horror at the men from the tavern as they loomed over him, blocking out the morning sun.

Jaskier shot a glance over at Roach and saw that she had been tied up with a short lead to a tree, she was clearly agitated with the turn of events, but she didn’t appear to have been hurt.

“How did you even find me?” Jaskier asked, feeling breathless and, quite frankly, a bit annoyed with how quickly his whole plan had gone to shit.

The men laughed, “Weren’t too hard once we realized who ya were. The pathetic little bard that follows the witcher around like a mutt begging for scraps, singing his praises far and wide. When we saw ya in the tavern, and saw that our trophy horse up and disappeared right after you left, we put two and two together and asked a helpful villager which direction you’d gone, and here you are. Not too great at covering your tracks are ya?” 

One of the men pulled him up from the ground roughly by his shirt and shoved him hard into a tree. Jaskier gasped in pain and attempted to wriggle free, but the man just pulled him closer before slamming Jaskier’s back into the tree once more.

“What do you want from me?” Jaskier groaned, maybe he really was bad luck. Certainly someone with destiny on their side wouldn’t get into quite so much shit all the damn time.

The man not holding him laughed, “That’s a good question. Why don’t you tell him what we do to thieves Bruno.” 

The man holding him- Bruno apparently, grinned vindictively, “We gut ‘em and leave them writhing on the ground, tryin’ to stuff their organs back inside their body before they bleed out.” Bruno ran a hand over Jaskier’s abdomen in a clear indication of what was to come, “How long would ya say it took the last one to stop screaming Gregor?” 

The other man- Gregor- hummed, “About five minutes I think, give or take.”

Bruno dug his nails into Jaskier’s stomach until he cried out in pain, “I bet this one would scream real nice for us.”

Jaskier couldn’t help the small fearful whimper he made at that, “I- I didn’t steal anything from you!”

Bruno leaned in close till his face was mere inches away from Jaskier’s, “What’s that now?” He growled.

Jaskier did his best to keep eye contact with the man and speak with conviction, “Roach doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to Geralt of Rivia.” 

Bruno leaned back with a nasty glare as Gregor walked closer and spoke, “Well that lame excuse for a Witcher ain’t here is he? No, he’s probably locked up tight somewhere- if he ain’t already dead- and we’re the ones who put him there. I think that makes the horse ours by default.”

Jaskier tried to glare at them, but with the combined weight of their gaze, he found his eyes lowering to the ground, “I’m going to save him.” 

Jaskier’s whole body shook with how hard Bruno laughed in response, Gregor was bent over next to him slapping his knee and laughing just as hard. Jaskier’s face heated, “Yeah laugh it up, when I rescue Geralt from wherever he is, he’s gonna mess you lot right up!”

Gregor wiped a tear from his eye, “Fuck, I haven’t laughed like that in ages, you’re a funny one bard, I think I see why the Witcher was willing to put up with you for so long.”

“I’m not joking!” 

Bruno rolled his eyes, “The Witcher was taken by Nilfs through a magic portal, he could literally be anywhere- again, that’s if he’s not already dead, a fool like you stands no chance.” 

“Nilfgaard took him!?” Jaskier asked. 

“Yup.” Gregor said, popping the p obnoxiously.

“Where? Why!?” Jaskier has one piece of the puzzle but it wasn’t even close to enough. The men were right, from what he knew about magic, based on the bits of information Yennefer had discussed with him over the years when she was in one of her more friendly moods, and what he had learned at Oxenfurt, portals could basically teleport you anywhere as long as you knew what you were doing.

Bruno sighed, “Don't know, don’t care.”

“But-!” Jaskier started, but was cut off by a growl from Bruno, “Can we just kill him already?”

Gregor hummed again and walked closer, grabbing Jaskier’s face and turning it towards him, “I don’t know, he’s awfully pretty, and funny too… also, ain’t he like famous or whatever?” Gregor squeezed Jaskier’s cheeks, “Sweet little Dandelion, a poet and bard of much renown. Could probably fetch us a good amount of coin in the Nilfgaardian slave trade.” 

Bruno frowned, “Don’t they mostly just want workers and people to fight in their army?”

Gregor considered this, “Yeah I guess, but I can’t imagine there ain’t some lord or other rich fuck willing to pay good money for a fancy looking thing like our bard here.” He smirked, “And hey, if no one is willing to offer a good price, we can just kill him after alright?”

Bruno smoothed his hand over Jaskier’s wrinkled shirt and smiled, “Alright. I suppose it’ll be nice to have some entertainment on the road- for a while at least.”

Gregor let go of Jaskier’s face and clapped Bruno on the back, “That’s the spirit!”

Bruno pulled Jaskier away from the tree and shoved in the direction of his belongings, “Better get a move on, it’s a long way to Nilfgaard little flower.” Jaskier cringed at the mocking endearment, the men just laughed.

Jaskier was picking up his lute case to put it over his shoulder when Gregor walked over to untie Roach from the tree and pull her along. She didn’t move.

“Lousy creature.” Gregor growled and yanked on the reins, Roach stamped her hooves and shook her head.

“Oh fuck this, I ain’t got time to deal with a stubborn, disobedient horse. Bruno hand me the whip.” Gregor said, holding his hand out, Jaskier watched Bruno retrieve a whip from his pack and hand it over to Gregor. They were going to hurt Roach because she was refusing to bow down to some common mercenaries, to the people who hurt Geralt; they were going to hurt her and Jaskier didn’t know what to do. There was no one here to protect her; there was no one here except Jaskier, and he was useless. What was he supposed to do!?

Jaskier saw Gregor prepare to strike Roach with the whip and his body moved without conscious thought. He dropped his lute and ran in front of Roach, blocking the lash with his back. The whip cracked like thunder against his shoulder and down his spine, he could practically feel the skin bruise and break with the force. He yelped at the firey pain and fell against Roach, holding on to her to keep from falling to the ground. If he fell he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up.

“Have you completely lost it little flower?” Gregor scoffed, “What kind of loon steps in front of a horse when it’s getting whipped?” 

Jaskier grit his teeth and remained silent, trying to ignore the pain. Roach was incredibly tense beneath his hands, Jaskier gave her a small pat to let her know it was okay. Maybe if she believed that, he could too.

“Get out of the way bard.”

Gregor sighed as Jaskier refused to move or speak, like Jaskier was the one who was unreasonable. “Fine I’ll just punish you instead, one disobedient fool for another.”

The next lash came before Jaskier had time to prepare or even process what was coming. The whip crossed over where it previously hit and even through his shirt which was almost certainly being ripped to shreds, it felt like daggers were being dragged across his skin. 

The lashes continued after that with only a few seconds reprieve between each one. Jaskier sobbed audibly, mind going numb with the pain. He pressed his face into Roach’s neck to muffle the screams he was just barely holding back. 

Jaskier has never felt pain like this before. A punch in the gut or face from disgruntled cuckolds every now and again sure, a slap in the face from a jealous lover, no problem, but this… this was something else entirely.

His whole back felt like a blazing inferno of agony as the lashes kept coming. Jaskier felt like they continued on for an eternity, his whole body rotting away and leaving only pain behind, but just when he thought he could no longer bear it, the lashes stopped.

Tears continued to spill from his eyes, and his knees shook with the effort it took to remain standing, the men behind him laughed.

“Fifteen lashes and he looks ready to keel over, such a delicate little flower he is!” One of the men hollered, Jaskier didn’t know which one, all his concentration was devoted to not fainting. 

One of the men up behind Jaskier and leaned in close to his ear, “I don’t care who you are or what you’re worth, you disobey me again little flower, and I’ll skin you alive, you and the horse. Got it?” Gregor asked with malice thick in his voice, and placed a hand gently on Jaskier’s back. 

The hand felt like a brand against, what Jaskier could only assume were open wounds, he tried to recoil from the touch but all he could do was cling to Roach and pray for it to end. “Got it!” He gasped, he felt lightheaded with the amount of pain he was in.

Gregor pulled his hand away with a chuckle, “Glad to hear it! Just keep that horse inline and we shouldn’t have anymore problems.” Gregor made his way back over to Bruno. “Time to get moving little flower.” He called back, voice deceptively cheery, Jaskier knew it wouldn’t be smart to delay.

Roach nuzzled his head, it didn’t make his back hurt any less, or make the situation any less awful, but it made him feel better knowing someone was there for him. “Thanks Roach.” Jaskier murmured against her neck, and tried to work up the strength and motivation to move. 

It took him some time, but eventually, with some serious help from Roach, he was able to start walking. Picking up his lute and other belongings from the ground and not just keeling over when he was done was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. 

He fastened it all to Roach’s saddle bags, talking quietly to her as he did, “I’m sorry I’m not better at this whole rescue thing. I’ll figure this out though, and we’ll be back on the road to finding Geralt before you know it. I promise.” Jaskier finished strapping his lute onto the saddle- normally he would just carry it, but with his newly injured back, he didn’t think he could bear it. He walked in front of Roach so he could look into her eyes, moving gingerly to keep the pain manageable, “We have to go with these assholes for now though, but everything will be alright, I won’t let anything happen to you okay?” He told her sincerely. When he first met Geralt, he didn’t understand why he always talked to the horse like she was a person, but as time passed and Jaskier continued traveling with Geralt, he realized Geralt did it because she was the one that was with him when no one else was; a companion that never judged him or feared him. Jaskier knew the witcher took comfort in her company; even if he refused to admit it out loud, she was important to him. 

That’s how Jaskier had felt about Geralt before he was pushed away. Maybe not the being feared part, or the not admitting it part- he sang about it pretty much everywhere he went, but Jaskier never felt like he had to be anyone else but himself around Geralt, and no matter how much danger they got into, he always knew it would be okay as long as Geralt was there. 

He knew how important that feeling was, because for the past year he had been without it and he had been lost. No inspiration; no motivation; no Geralt, just songs about him Jaskier would sing for people in taverns. Hating and loving them at the same time, because they were all he had left of his best friend. So he was going to get Roach back to the witcher and he was going to save him, Jaskier wasn’t going to let a few- incredibly painful- lashes stop him.

Roach nudged his face with hers and stamped her hoof lightly on the ground. Jaskier smiled, “Thank you.”

He made his way over to the men, Roach following behind him. It appeared that while Jaskier was distracted with Roach and trying to not just completely give up, one of the men had gone and grabbed their horses- that they apparently had. Why did they need Roach if they already had horses? Jaskier thought to himself with irritation. All this and they didn’t even need what he allegedly stole. When he got closer, he also noticed that the horses were carrying Geralt’s swords- one each. Jaskier felt the same urge he felt when he had run away with Roach, to take back Geralt’s stuff, to get the fuck out of there, and find Geralt. 

That wasn’t possible this time.

Gregor hopped up into the saddle of his horse. Jaskier was about to make a pathetic attempt to follow suit, but Bruno walked over to him before he could, “Ah, ah, ah little flower.” Bruno teased, “Thieves don’t get to ride stolen property, also we can’t have you running off now can we?” 

Gregor looked over at them with a smirk, Jaskier just watched them silently and Bruno continued to taunt. “No, you’re going to walk and,” he paused, pulled out a long rope from his pack, and went to tie it around Jaskier’s wrists. Jaskier instinctively pulled away, “If I have to get off my horse, you’re in for a world of hurt bard.” Gregor warned, Jaskier held his wrists out to Bruno, ducking his head down in frustration and shame for having to willingly allow this man to bind him and being able to do nothing about it. 

“What a good little flower.” Bruno mocked as he tightly bound Jaskier’s wrists together and handed the long strand connected to the binding to Gregor. “Wouldn’t want you to go and fall behind of course. Now you won’t go and get yourself lost along the way.” Bruno smirked, and pat Jaskier’s cheek, before attaching another rope to Roach’s reins and tying it to his own horse and getting into the saddle. 

Gregor jerked Jaskier’s rope to get him moving, it was only sheer luck that he didn’t fall face first, right into the ground. Then they were off, Jaskier had no idea to where exactly, but he knew he didn’t want to go there at all. 

He didn’t have time to be doing this right now, Geralt needed him, and one way or another, Jaskier was going to get to him. He didn’t care if Geralt still had no interest in seeing him, he could tell him to get lost afterwards and Jaskier would listen, it didn’t matter as long as he was safe. Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t be able to help at all; maybe Geralt would just break himself out like he usually did, or Yennefer would do all the work once he found her; maybe this was all a big rouse or nightmare or fucking magic- whatever, Jaskier would do everything in his power to help Geralt. Being held hostage was just about the furthest from helpful something could be.

The rope became taught as the horses started trotting along the path, leaving Jaskier with no choice but to speed up to match their pace. The pain in his back was horrendous with the way his arms were stretched out and how jerky his movements were. Jaskier had no idea how long he could keep up, but he couldn’t quit and die now. This was just another adventure right? Definitely a lot shittier and less fun than the others, and a lot less optimism for a good outcome, but it was going to be fine.... Probably.

He could do this.

* * *

He couldn’t do this.

They had been walking for hours.

His wrists were chaffed and blistering from the rope that was all but dragging him along at this point. Sometimes the horses would speed up, or Jaskier would stumble, and he would have to run to catch up. 

He had managed to ignore the pain radiating from his back for the most part, but every so often he would move wrong and the sharp flare of agony reminded him.

His feet were faring no better. Jaskier has grown used to long walks on his journeys with Geralt over the years. They had walked through treacherous terrain and climbed literal mountains, but Geralt had never insisted they continue on when Jaskier really needed a rest, he grumbled about it of course, saying Jaskier was wasting time, but he always stopped anyway. 

These men hadn’t stopped for a break even once, they had started walking only an hour or so after the sun had risen, and now it was dipping low in the sky. They hadn’t even stopped to eat, they just grabbed some snacks from out of their packs and continued riding. Jaskier didn’t know if this was normal for them, or they were just being unusually cruel, but at this point, each step felt like walking on a bed of nails. 

They only stopped once night had fallen, hoping off their horses and setting up camp. Jaskier all but collapsed to the floor, there was a twinge of pain in his back but the sweet relief of being off his feet made it inconsequential for the moment.

Jaskier closed his eyes and did his best to ignore all the aches and pains his body was feeling, as well as all the high anxiety and stress he felt with everything going on. 

In his brief moment of attempted relaxation, he didn’t notice Gregor grab his lute from Roach’s saddle and approach him with it, so the loud command to “Play something for us bard!” from the man made Jaskier flinch violently.

He looked up at the man with a glare, maybe these men could (and already had) hurt him a lot, and maybe he had to try and listen to them so he didn’t get skinned alive or whatever, but that didn’t mean he had to be cheerful about the situation. 

“And just how,” Jaskier began, holding up his wrists, “am I supposed to do that all tied up?” He couldn’t help sneering at the man who was literally holding his leash and now expected him to entertain them after they whipped him and immediately after made him walk for an entire day. This whole situation was fucked and Jaskier was so over it.

Gregor narrowed his eyes and yanked the rope up towards him, pulling Jaskier’s arms upwards and rubbing his raw wrists painfully. “What are you doing!?” He yelped, trying to follow and reduce the pressure on his wrists, ending up on his knees. 

The man didn’t bother to answer him, he just went about roughly untying the rope from Jaskier’s wrists, while Jaskier was knelt before him. 

Jaskier grit his teeth against the pain, at this point he wasn’t even sure what part of him hurt the worst, but judging from the spots of blood dotting thing rope, his wrists were just as fucked as his feet and back. 

Once the rope was finally untied, he went to pull his wrists away in an attempt to shield them from more pain. Gregor however, only let him pull his right hand away, keeping the other in a tight grip. 

“Ah, ah, ah little flower, I’m just giving you back movement of your hands so you can play, I’m not giving back your freedom.” Gregor chucked and re-tied the rope around Jaskier’s left wrist, the rough texture bit into his already blistered and torn flesh. Gregor kept hold of the other end of the rope and walked back over to where Bruno was, dragging Jaskier (who quickly got to his feet despite the pain,) along. 

Gregor shoved the lute into Jaskier’s arms and went to sit down by the small fire Bruno had made, all the while holding tight to the rope keeping Jaksier captive.

Jaskier stood there frozen, holding his lute in uncertainty, he didn’t want to play for these men, he didn’t want to be made to perform on command, he didn’t want to be here at all, but he just couldn’t see a way out of this that didn’t involve him being seriously injured or killed. 

“Well go on then bard, play us a tune.” Bruno jeered.

Jaskier moved his fingers into position on the instrument, wincing as the movement pulled at the tender flesh of his wrists and dug the rope into the skin it was still tied around. He strummed a few notes, and started to play.

* * *

When he finished playing, the men cheered and heckled in turn. Jaskier just sighed, and held the lute to his side. He was completely exhausted and dearly hoped that at least in sleep, he could escape the pain of the giant wound that was his body.

But the men wanted him to play more, demanded it in fact, so he continued to play, shifting his stance continuously in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his feet. He played until he physically couldn’t anymore, and he collapsed onto the ground, lute falling limply beside him. 

The men just laughed, “Is the little flower too tired to play for us?” Bruno asked in a mocking tone. Jaskier was too tired to even attempt a sarcastic response, he just closed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. 

Gregor hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose we can turn in for the night, get up bright and early tomorrow and get back on the road.” He walked over and crouched down in front of Jaskier and tugged the rope, shaking Jaskier’s wrist with the motion. “Don’t you try any funny business in the night you here? I’m tying the other end of this rope to my wrist, so if ya try and sneak away I’ll know.” 

Gregor stood back up, and looked down at Jaskier, then for some sadistic reason, he shoved Jaskier’s shoulder with his boot, causing Jaskier to fall sideways onto the ground with a grunt of pain. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, sprawled out in the dirt like he was, but Jaskier was so past the point of caring right now with how exhausted he was, so he just closed his eyes and fell quickly to sleep with the cruel sounds of laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Jaskier was dreaming, or at least, he thought he was. Everything was warm and soft, there was a pleasant scent in the air, and he felt safe and protected, and loved.

“It’s time to get up Jaskier.” A voice whispered in his ear. Jaskier grumbled, having no interest in waking from this wonderful nap. The voice chuckled at his childish behavior. There was movement beside him, and then a hand lightly caressed his cheek. Jaskier kept his eyes closed. 

“Really Julian,” the voice breathed softly against his lips, “I thought you missed me.”

Jaskier’s eyes shot open at that, and he stared up into the bright yellow eyes of the witcher, meer inches away from his face. “Geralt,” Jaskier smiled happily in relief, “you’re here.” 

Geralt leaned in closer and Jaskier basked in the moment of being with him again. The witcher’s lips moved against his, not in a kiss like he so desperately desired, but with words. “I need you to wake up Jaskier, I need you to find me. Don’t leave me waiting.” 

Jaskier frowned up at Geralt, but the witcher had vanished. There was a sharp pain in his side and a voice ringing out in his head, yelling at him to wake up. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and curled up in a ball, trying to protect himself from invisible foes. “Geralt where are you?” He called weakly as the pain and the shouting came again. 

“WAKE UP YOU USELESS FOOL!” The voice boomed. 

Jaskier opened his eyes, and found himself on the ground, with a kick landing painfully on his stomach.

“Finally!” Gregor said in exasperation, and without giving Jaskier a moment to collect himself, grabbed the rope connected to Jaskier’s wrist, and dragged him through the dirt over to the horses. It wasn’t a far walk, but with how sore and completely awful he felt, it was torture- especially on his wrist. He yelled and screeched at the man, but he paid Jaskier no mind, just crouched down in front of him once they reached their destination and re-tied the rope around his other wrist. 

“Next time wake up the first time I say it, and I might be a bit nicer.” Gregor told him calmly, like he hadn’t just screamed at and beat up a sleeping man, and got on his horse. Bruno tossed Jaskier some food and water, that he somehow managed to catch, secured Jaskier’s lute back onto to Roach’s saddle and got on his horse as well. Then they were off, Jaskier had to scramble to his feet quickly to follow along, munching hungrily on the food as he did.

That day went just the same as the first. The men rode their horses while Jaskier walked, from dawn till dusk never stopping for a break.

The skin on his wrists was completely shredded, his feet were blistered and painful to walk on. The sun beat down on his back and onto the whip wounds through the rips in his shirt. 

Everything was awful, Jaskier felt atrocious, and seriously considered just giving up and letting the horses drag him along the ground, but he couldn’t give up, Roach needed him, and fuck, Geralt really needed him, so he managed to keep going, falling into a kind of daze where all he focused on was putting one foot in front of the other. He needed to figure out a way to escape, but he was just so damn tired. 

At least Roach was being treated okay, not that she seemed at all happy with the situation.

When they made camp, they gave him and the horses food and water, and then made him play for them again, until he passed out.

* * *

He dreamed about Geralt again that night.

And again, was violently woken with a kick the next morning.

The only thing that made the third day any different than the other two, was that Gregor or Bruno- Jaskier honestly didn’t care which did what anymore, told him that they would be arriving at their destination sometime tomorrow, that they knew a guy in Mettina who was in the slave trade business. As a result of that, Jaskier spent the whole day stressing out about what to do and how to get away before they arrived.

Dusk was approaching quickly, and even though he was dying to be able to stop walking to rest his blistered feet; to end the agonizing tugging on his ripped and bloody wrists, he also dreaded it because it meant time was running out, and he had yet to come up with a single plan for getting away. He was out of time and he had nothing. 

“Right about now would be a _fantastic_ time for Geralt to show up.” Jaskier grumbled to himself, and it took a moment for him to recognize the problem with what he just said. He stopped dead in his tracks stunned, only just managing not to trip when the rope inevitably yanked him forward. 

Geralt wasn’t coming this time, he was the one who needed saving. Jaskier knew that, and yet in the back of his mind, he realized he had just been biding his time, waiting for Geralt to rescue him like he always did.

No one was coming to save him this time, no one even knew he’d been taken. The only person who might even care (though probably not) had been captured and was technically the reason he was even in this mess in the first place. Sure Jaskier was a bit famous, but still, no one (aside from aforementioned Witchers,) went out of their way to rescue a bard, no matter how famous he might be.

Not counting Roach, who was depending on him to get them out of this, Jaskier was really, truly, honestly on his own, and that was terrifying. 

All that wasn’t even addressing the fact that, every hour that passed with him still stuck as a captive of these psychos, was another hour Geralt was in the hands of Nilfgaard; another hour that Geralt might not make it through. Jaskier had no idea what the Nilfs wanted with his friend, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they got what they needed and got rid of the Witcher for good.

The men stopped to make camp not too much later. Jaskier’s mind was spinning, thoughts and fragments of plans flying through his head, but none of them good. He tried to picture what Geralt would do, but that just involved a lot of chopping things up with a sword and even if he wanted to do that- which he very much did not, he didn’t have any swords or weapons of any kind for that matter. He didn’t even see how he could get out of his bindings without the men noticing. He wasn’t exactly a stealthy individual. 

His right wrist was freed and his lute was once again thrust into his hands with the command to play. His wrists hurt horribly, and playing was agony, but he had no choice. He played song after song, still trying to think of a solution all the while. He had just finished his song about the Fishmongers Daughter, when Gregor called out. 

“Why don’t you sing us a song about your Witcher then?” 

“Yeah!” Bruno agreed, “But not that _Toss a Coin_ rot, or it’ll be stuck in my head for days again.”

“How ‘bout you play us something soft, sing us to sleep with your dulcet tones, little flower. Sos we can have good dreams about taking out your Witcher.” Gregor mocked.

Jaskier sighed in exhaustion, he was in a great deal of pain physically and mentally already, and he really didn’t want to make it worse in either respect, by playing the song that fit that description. But, at least this would be over tomorrow… one way or the other.

So he strummed his lute and started to sing.

_The fairer sex, they often call it_

_But her love’s as unfair as a crook_

_It steals all my reason_

_Commits every treason_

_Of logic, with naught but a look_

_A storm breaking on the horizon_

_Of longing and heartache and lust_

_She’s always bad news_

_It’s always lose, lose_

_So tell me love, tell me love_

_How is that just?_

* * *

Incredibly enough, then men had actually fallen asleep to his singing, he didn’t even end up finishing the song and they were out. 

Jaskier sighed again, and laid down beside the fire, ignoring all the aches and pains of his body, as well as how close he was to the sleeping men, and tried not to panic. 

He was going to be sold as a slave tomorrow or killed, he didn’t even know which was worse at this point. Geralt had been captured and Jaskier was probably the only one who knew, so unless he managed to escape on his own, it was up to Jaskier (and hopefully Yennefer if he found her.) Roach was depending on him too. Everyone was, and he was useless. He had been captured not even a day into his rescue mission, and had managed to come up with exactly zero plans to escape. His life literally depended on it, _Geralt’s life_ literally depended on it and he had nothing. This wasn’t his area of expertise, being kidnapped and in danger sure, but having to save himself and do the rescuing not so much. 

Singing that song didn’t help either, it was partly about Yennefer and Geralt yes, but mostly it was about Jaskier having to stand by and watch as Geralt chose someone else over him. Jaskier never expected anything different of course- especially after the things Geralt had said to him, but it still made him sad. Jaskier thought writing a song about it would help him deal with everything, but it only made it worse. Of course, this whole situation only made it abundantly clear that Geralt was better off without Jaskier dragging him down. What use is a friend who can’t even escape from two sleeping idiots and be there when needed.

He laid there on the ground for hours, exhausted, but too stressed to sleep. He sung quietly to himself as the sun was just starting to rise, turning the sky a bright red.

_The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool_

_Better stay out of sight_

_I’m weak my love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and judge_

A light tug on his wrist grabs his attention, and he looks over at Gregor, still asleep, scratching his stomach with the hand that had the other end of Jaskier’s leash wrapped around. 

Jaskier glanced down at the rope, and then up at the red dawn sky, and he knew what he needed to do. He doesn’t think, doesn’t consider the consequences, cause if he did he might not go through with it, but this was his only option. He had no weapons; had nothing except for this damn rope.

So with daylight fast approaching, and time quickly running out, Jaskier makes his way over to the men, trying to be as smooth and quiet as possible as he crawls across the ground. It felt like it took forever, with him having to stop and hold his breath at every slight movement from the men, but eventually he made it and stared down at Gregor from his kneeling position above the man’s head. 

He didn’t want to do this, he _really_ didn’t want to do this, but Geralt was counting on him. Jaskier glanced over at Roach, she stared back at him calmly, trusting him to do what needed to be done. Jaskier nodded at her and clenched the makeshift garrote tightly in his hands. It was slightly awkward with the way it was tied around one of his and Gregor’s wrists, but he made due. He put all doubts out of his head, and wrapped the garrote around Gregor’s neck and pulled tight. 

Gregor awoke almost immediately, but the rope tight around his neck kept him from making too much noise. Jaskier closed his eyes and pulled the rope harder. His hands were shaking, with the terror, the exhaustion, the despair he felt doing this. The rope pulled painfully at his tied wrist, as well as the tender flesh of his hands, burning and ripping the skin as he pulled with all his might. Gregor gargled and flailed, attempting to break free, there was no denying the man was far stronger, but Jaskier had the element of surprise and it was working in his favor. 

There was a painful jab in his side, where Jaskier guessed Gregor had elbowed him quite brutally, but he didn’t let up, he just pulled harder and harder, never opening his eyes, unwilling to look at what he was doing. It took an eternity for the man to stop struggling and to fall limp. Tears made wet tracks down the side of Jaskier’s face and for a moment, he forgot it wasn’t over. 

Roach’s alarmed neigh was all that alerted him to something being wrong before he was thrown to the ground by a heavy weight barreling into him. Hands wrapped tightly around his throat, Jaskier opened his eyes and stared up at the angry face of Bruno growling down at him. 

“I knew we should have just killed you when we first found you!” Bruno snarled, Jaskier gasped and pawed weakly at the hands cutting off his air supply, the man just kept on shouting and squeezing. “Gregor just _had_ to have a bit of fun, and where did that get him?” Gregor asked, glaring down into Jaskier’s wide eyes, “It got him dead! Just like you’re about to be little flower.” 

Jaskier whined in fright, and pushed at the man’s chest, scratched his arms, tried everything he could to get the man to let go. His arms fell limp when he realized there was nothing to be done, this was it, he had tried and he had failed. Failed Geralt; failed Roach; failed himself. 

There were black spots dotting his vision, and he was just about to give up, when Roach neighed loudly, waking him up just enough to notice that his hand had fallen onto the dagger Bruno kept in his belt. Panicked and unthinking, Jaskier swiftly pulled the dagger out of its sheath and stabbed it into the man’s chest again and again. 

Bruno’s hands lost their grip around Jaskier’s neck and he stared down at the bard in surprise for a moment before the light left his eyes and he slumped over dead, trapping Jaskier under his body, as the blood pooled around them.

Jaskier gasped for breath, sobbing on every exhale. He tried to shove the body off of him, and in doing so, felt the weight still attached to his wrist. He had just killed two men and now he was trapped by them once again in death. 

Jaskier was panicking as he continued to try and shove the Bruno’s body off of him with shaking arms, wincing at the pain in his wrist and palms as he did. Everything was slick with blood, the smell of iron thick in the air, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that he had murdered two human beings. He felt nauseous, and he wanted to give up more than ever. 

Bruno’s dead eyes stared unblinkingly down at him, Jaskier clenched his own shut so he wouldn’t have to see. Death wasn’t unfamiliar to him, how could it be when he traveled for years with Geralt? But this was different, this was personal, this was undeniable. He had never killed anything before, he brought stories to life, and now he had single handedly ended two forever. 

Jaskier knew he shouldn’t even feel bad about it, they were bad men, they deserved it, he _knew_ that. It didn’t make him feel any less wretched about what he had done.

It took some time, and a lot of wriggling, but he eventually managed to slide Bruno’s body off of him. It fell to the ground with a wet thud in the puddle of blood seeping into the dirt. 

Jaskier stayed laying where he was, staring in a daze up at the sky. It was fully light out now, he registered absentmindedly. He didn’t think he ever wanted to move again, it was fine here, as long as he didn’t think about anything, and stayed perfectly still, he could ignore the pain radiating through his whole body, and everything he had done and still needed to do, and rest. 

He was so incredibly tired. A little nap couldn’t hurt. And then maybe he would get to see Geralt again.

Roach neighed softly, if Jaskier had to describe it, he would say she sounded concerned. He let his head fall to the side to look at her, she was pulling at the rope tying her to a tree roughly, trying to break free and go to him. 

In the peripheral of his vision, he spotted the body of Gregor, and glanced over at it without thinking. The man’s body was laying there, only a foot or so away, laying in an almost mirror position of Jaskier, staring right at him with the same hellish dead eyes that Bruno had. 

Jaskier quickly rolled over onto his side, half lifting himself up with his right arm, and vomited on the ground. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier sobbed, this was a nightmare, and it hadn’t even got him any closer to doing what he actually set out to do in the first place. Jaskier wasn’t cut out for any of this.

Roach neighed again, and he tried to get over it, to not care about what he did. He never saw Geralt crying over the bad guys he had to kill, he just got on with his life. Jaskier didn’t think he could do that, but he had to try. He got to his knees and grabbed Bruno’s dagger; decidedly ignoring what he had used it for, as well as the bodies, and the blood he was covered in, and cut the rope from his wrist. The skin beneath the rope was mangled and bloody, but it was an instant relief to finally have it be freed. 

He struggled to get to his feet, he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours at this point, and his body was fighting him every step of the way, but eventually he got his feet under him, gasping in pain as he did. He scooped up his lute as well as the men’s packs, and made his way over to Roach.

She butted his head gently with her own, and he shot her a wobbly smile before wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight hug. “I didn’t know what else to do!” Jaskier sobbed, “I’m no good at this, I never wanted to kill anyone!” He pressed his face into her neck, “I just wanted Geralt back, I just wanted to see him again!” 

Roach lowered her head so it rested on his shoulder, and they both stayed like that until Jaskier felt he could continue. Jaskier didn’t know what he would have done if Roach hadn’t been there, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be the one still standing at this point. “Thanks girl.” He said, patting her mane in appreciation, before getting everything strapped to her saddle bags. 

He cautiously walked over to the other horses tied up next to Roach, and rooted through their bags for anything useful. He grabbed Geralt’s swords from them, un-strapped their saddles and bridles, and cut them free. 

Jaskier walked back over to Roach, carrying the silver and iron swords reverently, securing them tightly onto Roach’s saddle bags, before struggling up into the saddle himself.

Now all he had to do was find a town, get information on Geralt and/or Yennefer, not have a mental breakdown, and rescue the Witcher from the Nilfgaardians. 

_They were all so fucked._


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier finally made it to a town a day or so later.

* * *

He had lost a bit of time not really having any idea which direction he should head, and being pretty delirious with his lack of sleep. It wasn’t even until he inevitably fell asleep while riding Roach and waking up a few hours later, that he realized he should clean himself up before heading to a town. People didn’t take kindly to strangers showing up covered in blood in most cases. Also, Jaskier was having a very hard time not thinking about what he did with the blood of the people he killed literally being on his hands. 

He had found a stream not too far from the path and did his best to wash all the blood off. His clothes were unsalvageable, but luckily he found some of Geralt’s spare clothes tucked into Roach’s saddlebags. They didn’t really fit him- in any definition of the word, but they were mostly clean, so in that sense, they were perfect. 

“What do you think Roach? Do I look every bit as dashing and heroic as our Witcher like this?” Jaskier asked the horse, doing an exaggerated spin, he figured acting more like himself, would eventually make him _feel_ more like himself.

Roach snorted.

“Yeah well, what do you know? Maybe black is my new color… can you even see color?” Jaskier mused, while Roach watched on silently judging. 

“Oh whatever.” Jaskier sighed, and rummaged through the bags for bandages to wrap his hands and wrists. He would need to get a healing salve later, but for now this would do. He could only imagine the sight he was, dressed up like a witcher, bruised and bandaged all over, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at the moment.

The hellish, days long detour was over at last, now Jaskier could finally get back to his quest.

* * *

The town they arrived at was a decent size and had a fair amount of traffic going in and out. Jaskier figured this would hopefully be a good place to get information. Odds were good that _someone_ had seen or heard something about Geralt or Yennefer.

As it was starting to get dark out, the tavern he found was quite busy. He tied Roach up outside, “Everything is going to be fine.” He told her, trying to not only reassure her, but also himself. “Our luck has got to start turning around at some point right?” Roach just snorted at him. “Yeah, you’re right, best not get our hopes up.” Jaskier sighed, turning away from Roach with a wave and heading into the tavern.

It was very loud. After days spent in the quiet of the countryside, the rowdy crowd was a bit jarring, but for the most part, this was his scene. So even though he was feeling pretty uncomfortable around all these people, being unsure who he could trust, he got over it and made his way over to the innkeep.

“Hello my good sir, fine establishment you have here.” Jaskier smiled at the man, who stared back at him unimpressed, so Jaskier continued on. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard anything about any witchers or sorceresses recently have you?” 

The man looked him over, and crossed his arms, “I might have heard something yeah.” Jaskier leaned forward in excitement, “You have? That’s fantastic! I’ll take whatever it is.” 

The man smirked, “What’s it worth to ya?” 

Jaskier deflated, “Oh. Right. How much do you want?” He asked, he had a decent amount of coin from what he had taken from Bruno and Gregor’s belongings, so it wasn’t really an issue, but still, it was the principle of the thing.

“Don’t much need coin, but I am lacking in the arts.”

“What?”

The man tilted his head to the side, “Ya look a bit different, what with the odd clothes and all, but I never forget a face. I saw you play in Novigrad a few years back, so why don’t you play us a few songs Master Dandelion, and I’ll tell you what I know.” 

The offer was good, it wasn’t even a hard price to pay, singing and playing music were what he loved to do most, but all he could hear in his head right now were Bruno and Gregor’s voices in his head, calling him little flower and telling him to play something. He must have zoned out for a minute because the innkeep actually sounded concerned when he asked Jaskier if he was alright.

“Yes, I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. I can definitely play for you. Why wouldn’t I? It’s my job right?” Jaskier asked, perhaps a bit hysterically, from the way the innkeep was looking at him, but he wouldn’t let those awful men that he killed ruin his main passion in life, not for one second. So he would play, even though his hands hurt terribly, and his mind was a mess, he would play.

“Right.” The innkeep answered, sounding a bit like he regretted his request now.

“Let me just go grab my lute.” 

Roach looked at him in concern when he came back out and started unstrapping his lute from the saddle bags. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. This is fine.” He told her seriously.

And it was fine, for the most part. His hands and wrists hurt something fierce, but once he put the men out of his mind, he was able to play just fine. People clapped and sang along to his more popular songs, and for the first time in awhile he felt okay. He escaped, he was alive, Roach was alive, and soon they would have the information they needed to save Geralt. 

The people cheered when he finished and he did a small bow, doing his best to not pull on the wounds on his back that were finally starting to scab over. Then he headed back over to the innkeep.

“You certainly can put on a good show bard.” The man praised.

“Why thank you. Now what can you tell me?” Jaskier asked.

“Don’t mess around do you?”

“On the contrary, I mess around almost exclusively.” Jaskier sassed, unable to resist, before continuing more seriously, “This is very important though and I’ve already wasted too much time; so please, if you would be so kind.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it.” The man said, raising his hands up to show he meant no offense, “Now I ain’t heard nothing about any Witchers, but I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about some mage taking up residence over in Caravista. They say she’ll cure anything. Dunno how much of it I really believe, but it sounds like what you’re looking for.”

It did sound like a step in the right direction, but Jaskier had no idea if the mage was Yennefer, or if the story was even true. 

“Do you by any chance have a name?” Jaskier asked, knowing it was a lost hope before even getting his answer.

The man shook his head, “Sorry, no. Only thing I heard about her was that she had ‘enchantingly beautiful eyes, like a field of lilacs in spring’, according to one of my more… poetic, customers.”

Jaskier’s hopes soared, “Are you positive they said her eyes were purple?”

“I am. Went on and on about it all night, not something I’d forget, even if I wanted to.” The man assured him with a shrug. 

Jaskier clapped in excitement, momentarily forgetting about his injuries and wincing as a result, but even the pain couldn’t dampen his mood. He had a solid lead now, a direction to head. No more aimless wandering in hopes that it would lead him to Geralt.

“Oh this is fantastic, thank you so much.” Jaskier told the man with a hand on his heart. The man nodded, and looked him over once again.

“Now I can see that you’re eager to be finding this sorceress of yours, so much so that you’re likely to go riding off this instant if I don’t stop you.” The man sighed.

“Why would you stop me?” Jaskier asked, narrowing his eyes at the man and getting ready to flee at the first sign of danger. 

The man looked at him skeptically, “Have you seen yourself? You look a right mess, like you tried to fight a witcher and lost, but instead of killing you, he gave you his clothes. To be frank, you look like shit.” He said bluntly. 

Jaskier gasped in offense, “Well that was just uncalled for, and here I thought we were getting on quite well.”

The man smirked, “We are, that’s why I’m offering you my spare room for the night. You look like you could use it.”

“...Oh.” Jaskier struggled to find words, “That’s very kind of you but-” 

“No buts bard, just take the room and set out first thing in the morning.”

Jaskier bit his lip, he really did need to get going, but it was already almost dusk and he _was_ exhausted. It would probably be safer staying inside too, he just felt bad wasting time and staying in a nice warm room while Geralt was likely locked up somewhere cold and awful. The innkeep was right though, he knew he looked like shit; he felt like shit too. 

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Jaskier sighed, “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome master Dandelion. Just follow me.”

The room he was led to wasn’t much more than four walls with a bed shoved into one of the corners, but it was paradise compared to what he had been living with the past week. He thanked the man once again and shut the door, stopping only to take his shoes off before falling into the bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

“Did you fall asleep Julian?” A voice chuckled.

Jaskier hummed, relaxing into the warmth he felt all around him. There was a snort from above him as hands rubbed down his chest and over his stomach, creating small ripples in the water that lapped against his skin. Jaskier blinked open his eyes and looked up at the man above him, “Geralt.” He breathed, smiling warmly up at the witcher. 

“I suppose I should be flattered that you find me bathing you so relaxing;” Geralt smirked and leaned down to whisper in Jaskier’s ear, “that you trust me enough to be so vulnerable with me.” The witcher pressed a kiss onto Jaskier’s neck, Jaskier tilted his head and moaned as another kiss landed behind his ear. “Did you miss me?” The witcher husked, the hot breath tickled his neck and caused Jaskier to shiver. 

It took a moment to get his thoughts in order enough to process the question, but once he did, he blinked rapidly in alarm, pulling away from the witcher and turning around in the tub to face him. He was unconcerned with modesty as he raised himself up on his knees and cupped Geralt’s face in his hands. “Where were you?” He looked deep into the witcher’s golden eyes, “I tried to find you, I looked everywhere for you!” He told Geralt, desperate in a way he couldn’t even understand. The smile Geralt gave him in return was soft, but full of such pity that Jaskier’s heart started to pound just from the sight. 

Geralt pressed his forehead to Jaskier’s, “Keep looking.” 

Jaskier blinked.

Geralt was gone. 

Jaskier was suddenly alone on a mountain and Geralt was gone. 

He started to run, screaming at the top of his lungs for Geralt, desperately needing to find him. He ran for what felt like days, yelling himself hoarse, he was just about to admit defeat when a flash of white caught his eye, and like he had never left, there was Geralt. 

“Geralt, thank the gods!” He exclaimed in relief, rushing up to him. “Why did you just disappear like that?” Jaskier pouted. Geralt didn’t answer, he just sneered at Jaskier and shoved him to the ground.

“What the fu-” Jaskier began indignantly, only to be cut off.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt glared down at Jaskier, who only just managed not to recoil in fear at the look. 

Jaskier started to pick himself up, cautious of making any sudden movements, “I was looking for you.” He said, trying to smile, but it felt wrong on his face.

“I thought I got rid of you already.” Geralt sighed like this was all a big inconvenience to him, and not at all concerned that he was breaking Jaskier’s heart. “But I-” Jaskier started, before getting cut off again when Geralt groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you understand yet? I don’t want you Jaskier. Why would I?” Geralt asked him, voice lacking any sympathy, “You’re little snivelling puppy love was amusing at first, but now it’s just sad. I’m in love with Yennefer, it will _never_ be you.” 

Jaskier blinked, trying to clear the tears from his vision, and suddenly Yennefer was there in the witcher’s arms. They kissed like they were the only two people in the whole world. Jaskier rubbed his sleeve over his eyes to dry them, but it did no good. He didn’t want to be here anymore, but he couldn’t just leave now, after everything. “I know that,” Jaskier started, voice wet with tears, “I know I don’t compare to her. I just want to be your friend, can’t I at least be that Geralt? Please!” He pleaded, not knowing what else he could say, or what he would do if Geralt said no.

The witcher pulled away from Yennefer to glare at Jaskier, “Fuck off bard.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and sobbed in despair.

When he opened them again he was in a forest. The bodies of Gregor and Bruno were on the floor in front of him, staring up at him with their dead eyes, and laughing.

“Poor little flower, you did all this, and still no one wants you, not even your shitty excuse of a witcher.” They laughed, speaking in turns, “You’re a pathetic, useless, _murderer!_ ” They screamed in tandem, Jaskier tried to cover his ears to block them out but it did no good. “Everyone would be a lot better off if you just fuckin' died.” The men laughed louder and louder until the laughter turned into wails and Jaskier’s ears started to bleed. 

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!” He screamed, begging them to stop.

Then he woke up, and the noise stopped.

He put his hands over his face and cried.

* * *

He set out a few hours later, after stocking up on supplies and getting food for himself and Roach.

* * *

The next few days were almost relaxing in comparison to the week before. They made good time during the days, and at night Jaskier did his best to stop and stay at inns if the opportunity was there, hoping- perhaps too optimistically, that being inside would keep him safe. So far it appeared to be working, not that it was always an option of course, but even his nights spent camping were relatively drama and danger free. There were occasionally a few wolves along the way, but Roach was fast, and they were able to avoid them. His wounds and bruises were slowly starting to heal as well. His back still twinged every now and then, his wrists (and his palms to a lesser extent,) still looked horrific and were incredibly painful, but they were starting to scab over at least.

* * *

They were probably a day or so away from Caravista, and dusk was fast approaching. With no towns or inns in sight, Jaskier decided to make camp for the night. 

“So assuming that the information I got was good, and that it is actually Yennefer in Caravista, _and_ that she hasn’t already flitted off to somewhere more glamorous, we should probably be able to reach her tomorrow, and you know what that means don’t you?” Jaskier asked Roach as he set up camp and fed her some oats. Roach snorted, nudging his face with her own. Jaskier laughed, “That’s right, one huge step closer to finding and rescuing Geralt.” Jaskier tilted his head sideways in thought, Roach mirrored his movement, “He must be livid by now, being locked up so long. Although…” Jaskier paused and pursed his lips, “It’s entirely possible- likely even, that he already escaped, and that we’re going through all this trouble for nothing…” Jaskier waved off the thought, and the ever encroaching feelings of uselessness and smiled at Roach, “Either way, we still have to find him right? Because no matter how he feels about me, I’m sure he's desperate to get back to his valiant steed.” Roach held her head up high, Jaskier laughed, “Yes, Roach, your beauty is truly something out of this world. No man in his right mind would leave you waiting.” Roach nibbled his hair, “Yes, yes, I love you too. Now leave off, before you mess up my hair.” Jaskier grinned, pushing her away from him in mock displeasure. 

“We have a big day tomorrow, and I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted.” 

Roach snorted in agreement, and Jaskier headed over to his bed roll. “Good night Roach.”

* * *

That night, Jaskier did not dream.

* * *

“Jaskier wake up.” Someone next to him said, shaking him by the shoulder to rouse him from his sleep.

Jaskier flailed in alarm, and smacked whoever the person was in the face with the back of his hand. They grabbed his arms and Jaskier started to struggle in earnest, unwilling to be captured again. The fear was combining with the adrenaline and triggering his fight or flight response, so all he could focus on was trying to escape. 

“Damn it Jaskier, it’s me!” The person grunted in pain as Jaskier’s foot landed solidly in their stomach. But Jaskier _knew_ that voice, and the surprise was enough to get him to stop freaking out long enough to recognize the person above him through the cloud of sleep and fear muddling his mind.

“Geralt!?” Jaskier exclaimed, blinking owlishly up at the witcher. “You’re here?” The man grimaced and Jaskier was immediately up on his knees, hands fluttering about the witcher but never actually touching. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you here? Where were you? How did you escape?” Jaskier asked rapidly, not giving the man any time to actually answer. This was fantastic! Geralt was here, and he seemed to be in perfect health aside from the minor pains caused by Jaskier. Geralt sighed and Jaskier shut up, not wanting to irritate the man before they even got to talk. He wasn’t able to hold back the blinding smile as he looked at the other man however. He was just so thrilled to see him again.

“I’m fine.” Geralt grunted, “The Nilfgaardians were holding me in Hochebuz, but it was easy enough to escape, distracted as they were by their attempt at world domination.” Geralt rolled his eyes, and Jaskier couldn’t help but snigger, he had missed Geralt’s snide comments, when they weren’t aimed at him. He never would have guessed he had been held in Hochebuz, but if the Nilfgaardians were there… the smile faded from his face.

“What about Cintra? There’s no way Queen Calanthe would just let the Nilfs occupy Hochebuz without retaliation.” 

Geralt made a face at him, “Cintra has fallen Jaskier, the Queen is dead.” 

Jaskier gaped at him, he hadn’t heard about any of this. He had mostly been avoiding talking to people on his journey but still… “We- we have to do something, we have to help them Geralt!” The look Geralt shot at him was patronizing and full of skepticism, “They’re all dead Jaskier, there’s nothing we can do- certainly nothing _you_ can do.” Geralt narrowed his eyes at him, “What are you doing here anyway, and why do you have my stuff?”

Jaskier brushed off the despair he felt about Cintra and the hurt he felt at Geralt’s words, and smiled weakly at the witcher. “I found Roach with the men who took you, and I got her back. We were on our way to rescue you.”

“And how has that worked out for you?” Geralt smirked at him, but it wasn’t one of his normal smirks, it was mean, Jaskier didn’t like it. Over the past week or so, he had mostly put the way Geralt had treated him the last time they spoke out of his mind, focusing fully on rescuing the man and trying not to worry about how Geralt might still feel about him. If the way he was acting was any indication, and not just him lashing out at the nearest target in anger after everything that happened to him, then Jaskier didn’t have a whole lot of hope for this reunion ending happily. Jaskier tried to stay jovial and answer Geralt’s questions honestly either way.

“Well, it hasn’t been the easiest journey, ran into a few roadblocks along the way,” Jaskier scratched his head, chuckling in in self depreciation, “but you’re here now so everything worked out in the end.”

Geralt hummed, “No thanks to you of course.”

There was a stinging behind his eyes, but Jaskier ignored it, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not surprised,” Geralt shrugged, “You can’t do anything right, just how did you think _you_ could ever rescue _me_?” They were both still on their knees facing each other, so when Geralt shoved him to emphasize his point, Jaskier fell back landing hard on his rear. 

“Th- that’s not fair.” Jaskier said in a small voice, having a sudden feeling of deja vu and remembering the last time he said those words to Geralt in a situation not much different than this. He didn’t want to feel like this again, he hated feeling like this, like he was pathetic and useless, and not good enough to breathe the same air as Geralt. It wasn’t even true, Jaskier knew he was better than that, but when one of the people he respected most in the whole world made him feel like he was worth less than dirt, it was hard not to take it to heart.

“Life isn’t fair. Some people can make a difference and some people,” Geralt looked at Jaskier pointedly, “only get in the way.” 

There were tears building up in Jaskier’s eyes no matter how hard he willed them away, it hurt terribly to hear these things from Geralt after everything he went through to try and save him. “That’s a bit rude don’t you think? I was just trying to help you.” Jaskier sniffed, trying to hide his sadness with a thin veneer of annoyance. It wasn’t very convincing. 

Geralt leaned over Jaskier, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the ground, boxing him in with his arms on either side of Jaskier and a knee between his legs. “You want to be helpful?” Geralt sneered, getting right up in Jaskier’s face. 

“What are you-?” Jaskier started, wincing in pain as Geralt tightened his hold on Jaskier’s already injured wrists and spoke over him.

“You want to be useful?”

Jaskier nodded, hesitant and unsure what else to do.

“Then shut the fuck up.” Geralt smirked before smashing his lips into Jaskier’s 

Rational thought slipped from Jaskier’s mind as the witcher kissed him, it wasn’t even a nice kiss, and the moments before soured any happiness he would have ordinarily felt in this situation. But… he was finally getting to kiss Geralt, something he had been dreaming about since he was eighteen, so even though everything was undeniably pretty awful, and he had no idea why this was happening or what was going on, he was going to try his best to enjoy it, because he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance again. 

That was easier said than done though. 

The unyielding grip around his wrists was like a brand, he felt the scabs ripping at the harsh treatment, blood dribbled down his chin from where the witcher had bit his lip, and Jaskier hated this; hated even more that he still wanted it just because it was Geralt. Maybe if he let Geralt take out some of his lingering anger on Jaskier, they could go back to the way they were before. Jaskier didn’t need anything special, he didn’t even really _need_ Geralt, but he wanted him, _desperately._ Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut in defeated acceptance, he would take whatever Geralt was willing to give. 

Then the man started to laugh hysterically, pulling away from the kiss and pressed his face into Jaskier’s chest, releasing one of his wrists to bang his fist on the ground. Jaskier opened his eyes and stared up at the sky, unable to look down at the witcher with the way his head was positioned under Jaskier’s chin. Something was very wrong.

“Oh, gods that’s hilarious!” The man giggled, his voice sounded strange.

“You’re in love with him, and he couldn’t give less of a shit about you if he tried!” He lifted his head from Jaskier’s chest to wipe away the tears of mirth from his eyes. Jaskier looked up at the man in confusion and was horrified to see his own face grinning back at him.

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry, we just couldn’t help ourselves.” The thing with his face said. “When that fool Cahir found out that his little princess was the surprise child of _The_ Geralt of Rivia, he had him captured to try and make use of destiny or some rot like that.” The creature rolled its eyes, “Of course he wanted _us_ to take the Witcher’s face and lure Cirilla in, but once we saw your beautiful little face in the Witcher’s memories,” The creature released Jaskier’s other wrist to hold its face in its hands, dropping down to sit on Jaskier with a happy sigh, “we just had to have it.”

If Jaskier had to guess, this creature was likely a doppler, just not at all like any of the dopplers he had heard of before. Geralt always said they were inherently good natured, this was… something else. He was still reeling from the whiplash of emotions he had gone through in the last few minutes. Geralt was there; Geralt hated him; Geralt kissed him; Geralt was gone… had never been there in the first place, which meant he was still in trouble, and now Jaskier was once again being delayed from rescuing him- this time by a psychotic doppler wearing his face. He didn’t even know if he should be relieved or not, it might mean that Geralt didn’t actually hate him and think he was useless, but then again, the doppler might have been using Geralt’s own memories to hurt him. It made him sick to think about, and it made him unbearably sad, but most of all it made him angry. 

“Ooo what an adorable grumpy face you have.” The doppler cooed, pinching Jaskier’s cheeks, “Makes us want to kiss it.” 

The doppler leaned down and licked Jaskier’s lips, he shivered in revulsion at how wrong it felt to have his own face and body doing these things to him. Maybe in a different situation Jaskier would be into it, but all he felt now was disgust. He shoved the doppler off of him hard, crawling backwards away from the creature until he felt he was far enough away to get to his feet and rush over to Roach who was standing very still and tense by a nearby tree.

“Now that wasn’t very nice was it _little flower_?” The doppler called after him, Jaskier nearly tripped at the name, shooting a look back at the creature in alarm. It had gotten to his feet and was casually walking over to him, like it didn’t have a care in the world. 

Jaskier frantically searched Roach’s saddle bags for something that would help him, and spotted Geralt’s swords, gleaming in the morning sun. He grabbed one at random, but before he was able to so much as turn around, he was shoved face first into a tree with his arms held securely behind his back making him drop the sword. 

“And just _what_ were you planning on doing with _that_?” The doppler growled, turning Jaskier’s voice into something vile, he didn’t like it at all. “Were you planning on murdering us, like you murdered those men?” It sneered. Jaskier tried to wiggle free to no avail. 

“You are _nothing_ ! You’re just a pretty face, with nothing inside. You’re not special; you’re not a hero; you’re a pathetic excuse for a bard, and an even worse friend. Of course Geralt threw you away, he couldn’t stand the _sight_ of you!” The doppler growled cruel and mocking. Jaskier felt the tears drip down his face as the creature continued to taunt him, “You know it’s true, we’re in your head, we know how little you think of yourself, how little you think Geralt thinks of you. Yet you’re still doing all this to save him, and for what!? You think he’s going to thank you? You think he’s going to take you back?” The dopple leaned in close, breathing in Jaskier’s ear, “You think he’s going to _love you_?” It sneered. 

“Shut up.” Jaskier croaked, the thing just laughed, “It doesn’t matter anyway, you won’t be making it out of these woods, so you’ll never have to find out the truth.” 

Fuck, this thing was going to kill him- _of course_ it was was going to kill him. That was just his fucking luck wasn’t it? But he couldn’t die here, he just couldn’t. It didn’t matter if what the doppler said was true or not, Geralt was his friend, so he still had to try. He was sure he had a very limited amount of time before the doppler followed through with its threat, so he clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the pain, and slammed his head back with as much force as he could right into the doppler’s face. It reared back, blood gushing from its nose. Jaskier felt a bit disoriented and dizzy himself, but wasted no time in grabbing the sword and tackling the doppler to the ground, holding the sword sideways up against its throat. He hadn’t ever used a sword before, but he was pretty sure they didn’t normally burn the skin just from a touch. The doppler screamed in agony, his stolen face contorting grotesquely, becoming more and more unrecognizable until it was gone completely, leaving a demonic looking husk of something that might have once appeared human. 

Tears dripped from Jaskier’s eyes, on to the snarling face held captive below, he paid them no mind, pushing the sword just the tiniest bit harder against the doppler’s neck. He felt like he was someone else in that moment, and with that detachment, he was able to do what he needed to do. “Where is Geralt?” Jaskier asked it, calm and demanding. The doppler hissed, Jaskier pressed down harder, the flesh under the silver sword sizzled, the doppler screamed, “We told you already! He’s in Hochebuz!” It spat at him.

Jaskier pulled the sword back an inch, but not enough for it to escape. “How do the Nilfagaardians know about the surprise child?” 

The doppler’s lip curled, baring its pointed teeth at Jaskier, “ _We_ told them. We pulled it out of that ugly old man Mousesack’s head before we killed him.” It looked up at Jaskier with hatred burning in its eyes, “We killed him nice and slow, letting him feel it as our blade pierced his heart.” It licked its lips, “We’re going to take our time with you though. We’re going to make it _really_ hurt.” 

Tears still dripped from Jaskier’s eyes with no indication of stopping anytime soon, but his face remained impassive, unwilling to allow the doppler’s words to scare him. “How do I get him out?” 

The doppler howled with laughter, “You can’t! _You_ can’t do _anything!_ You’d have more luck waiting for Calanthe to rise from the dead to defeat Nilfgaard, than you would have attempting to save him yourself.” 

Jaskier frowned, and pressed the sword down. 

“We are going to _kill_ you!” The doppler screamed. Jaskier pressed down harder. 

“He’s surrounded by the entire Nilfgaardian army! Thousands upon thousands of soldiers! Even if you weren’t completely useless, it’s impossible!” It screeched in agony.

Jaskier considered that, feeling a stirring of hopelessness in his gut, but doing his best to ignore it. “Is there anything else I need to know?” He asked, not truly expecting anything helpful at this point.

The doppler sneered at him, “We’re going to cut you apart, piece by piece and listen to you scream and cry for days before we finally let you die. We’re going to store you inside tiny jars on a shelf in our room. Then, we’re going to wear your face and destroy everyone and everything you love, in the name of Julian Alfred Pankratz; the famous bard Dandelion; the worthless, pathetic, _murderer._ We’re going to ruin you, even long after you’re gone, and we’re going to _enjoy_ it.”

Jaskier looked down at the monstrous creature held at his mercy and inexplicably felt nothing but pity for it, “Well,” Jaskier began after a moment, “while all that sounds horrific and deeply unsettling, I’m already dreadfully behind schedule.”

“He won’t ever want you the way you want him to.” The doppler taunted, clearly trying anything it could to mess with him. 

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t change how I feel, or the fact that he’s still my friend. I would do anything for him, you’ve been in my head, you _know_ that.” Jaskier sighed.

“You’re going to hate yourself even more if you do this.” It breathed, heart beating so rapidly, Jaskier could feel its pulse through the blade. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jaskier told it, and then without another seconds hesitation, he pulled the silver sword away from the doppler’s neck and stabbed it down into its heart. There was a pained grunt followed by a quiet gasp, and then... nothing.

Jaskier stood, pulling the sword from the doppler’s chest as he did, and walked unsteadily over to Roach. He did his best to wipe the blood from the sword, breath picking up speed with each passing minute as everything that had happened in the last hour caught up to him. Jaskier’s legs gave out beneath him and he fell to the floor next to Roach, sword falling limply beside him. Roach nosed at his hair in concern, but it was a distant comfort at best. 

Jaskier had killed someone else. He hadn’t killed anyone in all his forty years of life and now in the span of a few days he had killed three people. Maybe one of them was more of a monster- maybe they all were in a way, but that didn’t make the fact that Jaskier took their lives any better. 

Killing the dopple had been easy too. That was the worst part, he didn’t even try to find another option, he just got what he needed and disposed of the creature. 

It had come to Jaskier as Geralt specifically, to lower his guard and to steal his face. It had assaulted him, and made Jaskier believe it was Geralt doing it to him, didn’t let him see how wrong it was because he was too consumed with the happy relief of having Geralt back. It had intentionally tried to hurt him, and Jaskier took it, _just_ because it was Geralt. 

It horrified him to realize that he really would have let the doppler do whatever it wanted with him if it had kept up the facade. Or if it actually had been Geralt.

When did he start thinking so little of himself that he would put up with abuse from people who were supposed to care about him? He didn’t used to be like this, for most of his life, Jaskier was overflowing with false confidence and an inflated sense of grandeur. He was the famous master bard Dandelion, his songs were known throughout the land. He was Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove for fucks sake! 

He was better than this... wasn’t he?

Geralt didn’t seem to think so when he threw decades worth of friendship away like it was nothing.

Jaskier hadn’t heard a single thing from Geralt in the year since they parted ways, not an apology, not a friendly hello, not even a simple check in to see if he was still alive. Yet here Jaskier was, doing everything in his power to save a man who apparently- according to the doppler- didn’t give a shit about him. He had murdered people, they were gone, forever, because of him. 

This wasn’t who he wanted to be.

But it was for Geralt right? He thought to himself a bit hysterically, it was all okay if it was for Geralt.

He would do the same for Jaskier if their positions were reversed...

Wouldn’t he?

Jaskier put his face in his hands. He was such a mess.

It’s not like it mattered anyway, the doppler was right, no matter how much he wanted to, there was no way someone like him could rescue Geralt from a cell surrounded by thousands of soldiers. 

What was he supposed to do now?

Just as he considered giving up, there was a sudden sound to his right, like all the air was being sucked out of the surrounding area. Jaskier jerked his head up in the direction of the noise and saw a woman stepping out of a portal that had opened up in the middle of the forest.

He blinked rapidly, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Y-Yennefer?” 

Yennefer of Vengerberg arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, “Oh, it’s just you.” She rolled her eyes, “Figures.”

She walked over, looking down at Jaskier who was still slumped over on the ground. He couldn’t help the way he flinched as she approached, still recovering as he was from his latest brush with death. Jaskier looked her up and down, she certainly looked like Yennefer, but how could he be sure? His eyes flicked down to the sword next to him, and he ever so slowly grabbed the hilt.

“What are you doing here Jaskier?” Yennefer asked, not sounding very happy to see him, that was certainly a point in favor of this being the real Yennefer, but still…

Jaskier raised the sword up and pointed it at Yennefer, his hands shook and the sword wavered in his grip, but he had to know. “You are Yennefer of Vengerberg right? This isn’t another trick?” He asked her, unsure what he would do if it wasn’t actually her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to beat her in a fight- real deal or not. 

Yennefer swatted the sword away like one would a fly, with mild annoyance but no real concern. Her skin didn’t burn when it brushed against the silver. “What are you talking about, of course it’s me. Why would you…” she trailed off as her eyes fell upon the dead doppler a few feet away, “Ah.” 

Jaskier sighed in relief, Yennefer wasn’t his favorite person, he knew the feeling was mutual, but at least she wouldn’t hurt him… probably. He dropped his raised arm back down, the sword fell from his limp fingers and back onto the ground. Jaskier felt Yennefer looking him over critically, but he just needed a minute before he would be able to deal with her; before he asked her for help.

“Jaskier…” Yennefer began, sounding hesitant, and if the mere idea didn’t sound so ridiculous, Jaskier might even think she sounded concerned.

“How did you find me?” He asked her, mostly for something to distract himself from his thoughts.

Yennefer was silent for a moment before she spoke, “I set up some warning spells around Caravista, one must have been tripped when this doppler was killed.”

Jaskier laughed, feeling hollow inside. The first thing he did that actually accomplished anything was murdering someone. He got Yennefer here all by himself, and all it cost was a life.

Yennefer crouched down in front of him. “Jaskier look at me.” He did, and he was shocked to see that she did in fact look concerned. “What happened?” 

Jaskier glanced at the corpse of the doppler then back at Yennefer, “Oh you know, just me being the shit shoveler once again.” He snorted at the morbid joke.

Yennefer stared at him silently for a long time, and when she finally spoke, it wasn’t something Jaskier expected to hear. “None of this is your fault Jaskier.” She said, voice softer and kinder than Jaskier had ever heard it, “You aren’t pathetic or worthless or any of the other things those monsters called you, and you aren’t a murderer.” The tears that had only just dried up, started flowing again as Yennefer put her hand over his. “You’re a survivor. There is no shame in that.” She told him firmly then scoffed, “You’re also the best friend that fool of a Witcher ever had, even if he was too pigheaded to admit it.”

Jaskier blinked the tears from his eyes, “How do you know all this?” 

Yennefer smirked, “Magic.”

“Oh… right, I think I remember Geralt saying something about you being able to read minds.” It was certainly easier than having to tell Yennefer everything, but now she had ample material to laugh about with Geralt once they got back together. ‘ _Oh that poor, dumb, little Jaskier_ ’ they’ll say, ‘ _In love with a Witcher, what a hopeless fool._ ’

“Jaskier!” Yennefer gasped, “I know we haven’t always gotten along very well, but I would have hoped that you wouldn’t believe I could be so cruel.” She pressed a hand to her heart, “I would never use the things I read in your mind to hurt you.” 

She sounded so sincere, and Jaskier wanted to believe her, he truly did, but he was running low on trust at the moment. 

Yennefer sighed, clearly still hearing everything he was thinking. She stood up from the ground, dusting off her dress as she did, then held a hand out to him. “This is no place for two dignified people such as ourselves to chat, let’s go back to my place. I’ll see if I can do something about the dreadful state of your wrists and… everything else.” She grimaced, “Then we can figure out a plan to rescue that idiot man.” 

Jaskier took her hand and she pulled him up, “Sound good?” She said with a small smile. Jaskier was stunned, “You’re going to help?” 

“Of course I am, that’s why you were looking for me isn’t it?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer. 

“Well yes but-“ Jaskier started, but Yennefer cut him off before he could voice his doubts.

“Everything is going to be alright Jaskier. Just trust me okay?” She smiled again, and opened another portal a few feet away. Jaskier gazed into the swirling vortex of leaves and dirt, then over to Roach who nudged him in support, then finally back at Yennefer. 

“Okay.” He affirmed, and with Roach by his side every step of the way, he followed Yennefer through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will prooobably be the last one, we'll see how it goes. Either way, only 1-2 chapters left :)  
> I liked this chapter a whole lot better than the first one too, so that's always nice. Hope y'all liked!  
> (I can't even tell you all how much time I spent looking at maps for this fic, and none of it even matters! Such is life.)


	3. Chapter 3

When they exited the portal and arrived at Yennefer’s current residence, she immediately sent him off to bathe. The warm water did wonders soothing the bruises and sores that encompassed a majority of his body. He wished he could just fall asleep right there and never get up, but they were in the final stretch now, Geralt was waiting, Jaskier could rest when it was over. 

Yennefer also set out some new- bard appropriate- clothes for him, which he greatly appreciated. When he was finished bathing and changing into the clean clothes- minus the shirt, as Yennefer requested, he followed the directions she had given him and found her waiting for him in her room, potions and salves already laid out. Jaskier sat down beside her and allowed her to look over the visible damage.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Jaskier began, trying to lighten the mood in an attempt to distract himself from how self conscious he was starting to feel.

Yennefer raised her eyes to meet his, “And what’s that?”

“Well obviously you’re realizing what a mistake you made picking Geralt over such a magnificently handsome man such as myself.” Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows at her, “The bruises in particular, really add to the rugged manly look I’ve been trying to achieve don’t you think?” 

Yennefer smirked at him, “Yes, I’m sure the ladies will be tripping over themselves to get a piece of you now. I will naturally, get first dibs.”

Jaskier grinned, feeling less embarrassed about the state of his body as Yennefer played along with his dumb jokes, “Ah, but of course, it is only fair. I wouldn’t deprive a lady such as yourself the gift that is me.”

“Quite right.” Yennefer agreed, “But first,” She began, smile falling from her face as she gently lifted his wrists to examine them, “let’s see what we can do to help you.”

“If we must.” Jaskier sighed, dropping the act, and allowing Yennefer to work in silence.

“There’s not a lot I can do about these.” She told him after a few minutes, carefully holding his wrists in her hands, “They will most likely scar, but I should be able to speed up the healing process a bit, and make them hurt a little less.” She said, grabbing a salve and applying it on the torn and burnt skin of his wrists as well as his hands. It worked almost instantly, pain lessening significantly, Jaskier let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

Yennefer waved him off, and started gently prodding the bruises on his stomach, chest, and neck, there was a dull ache where she touched, but Jaskier had seen the bruises when he took his bath, seen how they had started to yellow and fade, and figured he didn’t need to worry. 

“There doesn’t appear to be any internal complications from these, so as long as they don’t hurt too bad, we can leave them be. Now let me see your back.” 

Jaskier followed her instruction and turned around, closing his eyes as she lightly ran her finger along one of the whip wounds. “These have started to heal pretty well already, although they will likely scar as well. Do they still hurt?” She asked.

“Sometimes, when I move wrong, but I’ve had more important things on my mind.” Jaskier shrugged. Yennefer hummed and grabbed another bottle from the table, “This will just soothe the skin and muscles on your back to help reduce some of the discomfort.” She rubbed the cool salve across his back, and pains he had stopped even noticing dulled. He felt physically better than he had in weeks. 

“All things considered, you aren’t doing too bad.” Yennefer mused, “I’m impressed.” 

Jaskier laughed, suddenly feeling bitter, “Impressed that I managed to get captured not even a full day into a foolhardy rescue mission, and couldn’t escape for almost a whole week, and then got tricked and assaulted by a doppler?” 

Yennefer was silent behind him, but Jaskier didn’t dare look.

“Impressed that you survived.” She said after a moment, “Most people wouldn’t have, most people would have given up.” She stood and walked to stand in front of him, so she could look into his eyes. “You never did, even when you wanted to, you kept going.”

Jaskier scoffed, “Yeah right.” 

Yennefer groaned at that, and smacked him upside the head, “Stop feeling so sorry for yourself already, it’s not a good look, and it’s not you.”

Jaskier couldn’t help glaring at her, even knowing it wasn’t a smart thing to do, “And how would you know if it’s me or not huh? You don’t even like me.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “You were practically the only thing that idiot ever thought about, I know so much more about you than I could ever possibly wish to know. I know you Julian, and I _know_ that this isn’t who you are.”

Jaskier blinked at her, “What if it is now?” He asked, feeling foolish and scared all at the same time, he knew what she said about who he was true- or at least it used to be, and he hopped the part about Geralt was true as well, but he tried not to focus on that. 

Yennefer looked directly into his eyes, and Jaskier felt like she was seeing everything, “It’s not.” She told him, without even the slightest hint of doubt, “You were hurt, and treated unfairly by someone you trusted to always be there for you, and it did a pretty heavy hit on your confidence and self worth, but that isn’t who you are.” She sighed, “I know you know that. I also know how much Geralt means to you, but you shouldn’t ever let _anyone_ make you feel like you are worthless.”

Yennefer put a hand on his shoulder, “So here’s the deal, you and me are going to come up with a plan to save our idiot Witcher, and then you are going to give that fool a piece of your mind, because I heard the things he said to you up on that mountain Jaskier, and that man has a whole lot to apologize for.” She smiled at him, “No going easy on him alright?” 

“Alright.” Jaskier laughed, it was more of a sob if he was being honest, but Yennefer said nothing about it so neither did he, “So what’s the plan?” 

* * *

Geralt was having a fucking awful time.

The past week and a half he had been locked up in a cell, unable to fight or do anything to get out of the situation he had landed himself in. He hadn’t been paying attention, distracted as he was worrying about Cirilla, and because of that he had been captured like a goddamn idiot, by two lousy mercenaries.

After being sent away by Queen Calanthe, he decided to stay close by in order to be able to rush in and help Cirilla should the need arise. He had only taken on the contract with the two men to distract him while he waited, thinking it would be a quick job.

Yet somehow between one night and the next, Cintra had fallen without Geralt even noticing, and he had been captured. Perhaps Calanthe was right to not trust Geralt with her granddaughter, if he couldn’t even deal with the two lowlifes who got the jump on him.

At first he had no idea why he had been captured and was being held by Nilfgaard, but as the days passed, he was able to piece the bits of information he heard from his cell into something that _almost_ made sense. He knew they wanted Cirilla, though he didn’t know why. He knew they were aware of the law of surprise he had invoked, and that Cirilla was his surprise child, though he wasn’t sure how. He had no idea why they thought keeping him here would help them get their hands on Cirilla, but they had bound his wrists with dimeritum cuffs, so there was nothing he could do except wait.

It was driving him mad- madder than he already was- feeling so completely useless. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and he very much did not enjoy it. A man- Cahir, had come in every so often, asking him questions about the princess. At first, Geralt had just glared at him, but as the days continued to pass with no change, and no possibility for escape, Geralt grew angrier, and the glares turned into growls. He longed for the use of his magic, so he could burn this whole place to the ground; he longed for his swords, so he could cut down each and every one of these entitled fuckers who had the audacity to lock him up and try to take what was his.

Geralt didn’t know if Cirilla was even still alive, he didn’t know what had happened to Roach, he didn’t know anything except for the little bits of information guards occasionally let slip. 

He _did_ know that no one knew he had been captured.

He knew there wasn’t going to be a rescue.

Geralt wasn’t sure anyone would have even cared if they did know. He hadn’t exactly been a particularly good friend to the people who had tried to be there for him. 

He had fucked up from the start with Yennefer, binding their fates together like that, and he had stomped all over Jaskier’s loyalty and friendship at every turn, even though he had been the only person willing to stick around. 

There were no convenient djinn wishes this time around to get him out, not to mention, the people who had locked him up this time, Geralt begrudgingly admitted to himself, were a lot more competent than most of the others who had tried the same thing. The Nilfgaardians also didn’t seem to want anything from him except for him to stay right where he was, hoping that it would bring them Cirilla. 

So with no other choice, he waited.

And waited.

For a week and a half.

Aside from the occasional appearance of Cahir, and the regular meal deliveries, nothing changed, and Geralt continued to wait, trying to come up with ways to escape but always turning up empty.

Geralt was seriously considering the benefits of trying to smash his way out of the stone cell with his head when the door to his cell was opened and a man was thrown inside, landing face down with a pained grunt on the dirty floor.

From what he could see, the man looked a mess, he didn’t even need his sense of smell to determine that he had been hurt- most likely tortured- by the Nilfgaardians, there were patches of blood dotting his clothing as well as his hair, dying bits of it a dark maroon. 

The man panted on the ground for a moment, clearly trying to work through the pain, before pushing himself up unsteadily with his arms. There was a quiet grumble from the man, about ‘Nilfaardians being terrible hosts’ and Geralt felt a current of dread run down his spine, he _knew_ that voice. He must have made some kind of noise, because the man’s head shot up, his blue eyes locking onto Geralt, and there was Jaskier, beat to shit, and smiling brightly up at Geralt, with blood stained teeth.

Geralt looked down at the man he hadn’t seen in almost a year, who was now locked up just like him, and uttered the only word that came to mind.

“Fuck.” 

* * *

The plan had been simple, get in, get Geralt out. 

The particulars hadn’t really mattered when he was getting his face and body beat by Nilfgaardians looking to get information from him. Whatever, it didn’t matter. The point was that there _had_ been a plan, _this_ _was_ the plan- however shitty and counterproductive it appeared. 

Yennefer was unable to portal in to grab Geralt because apparently one of her old magic school friends was warding the place pretty heavily. Even if she _could_ get in- which of course she could, ‘ _she was Yennefer of Vengeburg, not some common street magician, honestly Jaskier_ ’, there was no way to pinpoint Geralt’s location. They considered having one of them cause a distraction while the other went to find Geralt, but there was the very real possibility of this becoming a large scale- though undoubtedly quick- battle if Fringilla caught wind of Yennefer’s presence. 

So against everyone’s better judgement, it was decided Jaskier would go in alone with a tracking spell cast on him, so Yennefer could get them out once he found Geralt. It wasn’t a great plan, and it left a lot to be desired in terms of safety and the likelihood of success, but it was unfortunately the best plan they had to rescue the witcher without having to fight an entire army.

Yennefer weaved an illusion spell across his skin to hide the bruises and wounds marring his body, they both knew full well this wasn’t likely to be a pleasant experience- especially if he went in like he planned to, claiming to have information on Princess Cirilla- the least they could do was not give the Nilfgaardians targets on his person where they could hit to make it really hurt. 

He made Yennefer promise to take good care of Roach in the event that neither he, nor Geralt made it out of this alive. It wasn’t something either of them wanted to consider, but Jaskier needed to know that at least Roach would be okay if everything went wrong.

Even with all the loose ends tied up, and with nothing holding him back, Jaskier hated this plan. Yennefer looked like she hated it just as much when she dropped him off right outside of Fringilla’s spell radius. He _really_ hated it when they were beating him for information he didn’t actually have in the hopes that when they were done, they would throw him in a cell and not just kill him instead. 

Against all odds though, it worked. 

He was tossed into a cell, and for a moment he just tried to breathe through the new aches and pains he had endured, and the relief of not being dead. He slowly raised himself up on shaky arms, “Nilfgaardians really are absolutely terrible hosts.” Jaskier scoffed to himself, it was no surprise they were trying to conquer everything. 

There was a sharp intake of breath from in front of him that made him whip his head up to look, and suddenly all the pain he was in seemed inconsequential, because there was Geralt, looking just the same as he had the last time Jaskier saw him. He smiled brightly up at the man, feeling a cut on his lip split open further, but he paid it no mind. 

Geralt was here.

“Fuck.” The witcher said as he looked down at him.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, there was a dull throb as he did so- he was definitely going to have a black eye (or two) after the hits he took to his face, but he he ignored the pain for now and struggled to his feet, “Nice to see you too.” He huffed.

Geralt opened his mouth to reply, but Jasier held up a finger, needing to do just one thing first. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single silver coin, and without warning threw it right at the witcher’s face. Unsurprisingly, Geralt caught it in his- ungloved- hand, looked down at it, then back at Jaskier with a puzzled look on his face. “What, the fuck.” 

Jaskier sighed in relief and didn’t bother answering, just limped as fast as he could over to the witcher and threw his arms around him. Geralt didn’t return the hug of course, he just awkwardly patted Jaskier on the back, but that was fine, that was Geralt. 

Geralt didn’t say anything for a few moments, allowing Jaskier to just bask in the moment of finally having found him. He didn’t think about all the shit he had to go through to get here, or how much pain he was in, or even the things Geralt said, and might still think, about him; he just let himself be happy. 

“Jaskier… What’s going on? How- why are you here?” Geralt asked him in a gentle voice, like he was worried he might frighten him, it was considerate in a way he wasn’t used to seeing with Geralt, but Jaskier appreciated it all the same, especially when compared to the last time he and Geralt had spoken.

Jaskier pressed his face into Geralt’s shoulder to hide the few tears that had leaked from his eyes, “I finally found you, for real this time.” Jaskier said with a smile, knowing that even though the words were muffled, Geralt would hear them. 

“You were looking for me?” Geralt asked, Jaskier nodded his head and hummed, he was probably getting blood all over the Witcher’s shirt, but Geralt didn’t seem to mind, so Jaskier didn’t worry about it.

Geralt put his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders and pushed him far enough away to look into Jaskier’s bloodshot eyes, Jaskier whined a bit at the distance but didn’t complain, not wanting to push his luck by acting too clingy. “How did you know I had been captured?” 

Jaskier tilted his head to the side, trying to parse the question, he noticed his vision was getting a bit blurry at the edges, he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or getting the shit kicked out of him… probably a bit of both. Geralt was starting to look at him funny because he wasn’t answering the question, and that just wouldn’t do, so Jaskier shook his head a little, blinking rapidly to try and focus. The head shake caused a sharp pain in his head, but it was just what he needed to wake him up. Just because he found Geralt didn’t mean they were safe, he couldn’t relax yet. 

“Jaskier? Are you alright? You look like shit.” Geralt frowned.

Jaskier gasped in mock offence, before snorting and waving away the concern, “I’m fine, sorry, what were you saying?” 

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him, but let it slide, “How did you know I’d been captured?”

“I found Roach. She’s fine by the way, don’t worry.” Jaskier smiled at Geralt, “Then I went to look for you, and instead found the men who took you, bragging about their great achievement of capturing you to the whole tavern. So I took Roach and we got out of there as fast as we could.” Jaskier shrugged, not making a big deal out of it, Geralt didn’t need to know how awful his rescue mission had actually gone. 

“So you managed to find your way here, and decided to get captured by Nilfgaard to try and break me out of a heavily guarded cell?” Geralt asked in a monotone voice.

Jaskier scratched the back of his head, wincing as his fingernails got caught on a section blood matted hair, “More or less.” He smiled again, to try and hide his discomfort, he knew he would have to tell Geralt about Yennefer sooner rather than later, he just wasn’t sure how the witcher would take it. 

“You’re an idiot.” Geralt told him very matter of factly, the same way one would say the sky was blue, or water was wet, like it was an indisputable fact. The smile fell from Jaskier’s face, and the happy glow that had enveloped him in the wake of finding Geralt faded away, leaving only cold and pain behind. 

“Excuse me?” He asked in a small voice. Apparently, after everything, _this_ is the thanks he got. Why did he ever think things would be different? Oh that’s right, he didn’t. Jaskier had come all this way, and done things he could never take back, knowing full well Geralt would probably still want nothing to do with him when all was said and done.

That knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less.

Geralt crossed his arms and looked away from him, glaring at the wall of the cell, like he couldn’t even stand the sight of him, “How could you be so reckless? Did you even think? Or were you just looking for a new story to sing about?” Geralt was getting more and more worked up at each question. Even if Jaskier had wanted to respond, Geralt didn’t give him the chance.

“You can’t compose a song if you’re dead Jaskier!” Geralt growled turning his enraged eyes back on Jaskier. 

Jaskier hated this, hated it more than those monsters telling him Geralt didn’t want him, because this was real, this was proof. The doppler was right, he didn’t want to know the truth. He had thought that they could get over the harsh words Geralt had hurled at him on that mountain, he had thought their friendship was stronger than a few cutting remarks spoken in a moment of anger. Apparently Geralt didn’t agree.

Geralt stalked forward, and Jaskier couldn’t help backing up in response, but there was only so far he could go in the small cell, he ended up pressed up against the cell door, back twinging in pain, as Geralt loomed over him. Jaskier averted his eyes, not wanting to see the disdain in Geralt’s.

“I don’t know what you thought was going to happen, but I’ve been locked up in here for over a week with no way out. I can’t save you this time Jaskier, there’s nothing I can do.” Geralt said gripping one of the bars next to Jaskier’s face in a tight white knuckled grip. 

Jaskier had never been scared of Geralt, not once since the day he had met him, but he figured if he had better instincts, he would probably be terrified right now. Instead, Jaskier just felt sad and angry. 

Geralt continued to growl at Jaskier about all the ways in which he had fucked up by coming, lots of iterations of ‘ _you shouldn’t be here_ ’ and ‘ _It’s not safe’_ and Jaskier’s favorite, ‘ _you, of all people, should have stayed out of this’_. Jaskier stopped paying attention after that, doing his best to tune the witcher out. 

Maybe Geralt had it right up on that mountain, maybe Jaskier _was_ bad luck; maybe they were bad for each other. He certainly felt bad right now. He felt bad a lot lately, and pretty much all of his unpleasant thoughts and feelings originated with Geralt. None of it changed the way he felt, he had told the doppler that and it had been the truth, but maybe loving someone wasn’t enough of a reason to stay with them if all it brought him was sadness; if being with them only made him feel more alone.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, moving his gaze over the other man’s features, watched his mouth move as he continued to berate Jaskier, his lips were dry and twisted up into a grimace. When his eyes landed on the witcher’s own, he noticed that Geralt’s eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes looked desperate in a way that didn’t match up correctly with the image in Jaskier’s head, but it didn’t matter. Jaskier just wanted a final look at the man he had once believed to be his best friend, before he called Yennefer.

Geralt didn’t want to see him, Jaskier wasn’t going to force the issue any longer.

He was better than this, he _deserved_ better than this, if Geralt didn’t agree, then Jaskier needed to do everyone a favor and just leave. He had been on his own for most of his life, he could do it again. Not that there was any shortage of lovely maidens just waiting for him to snatch them up, he _was_ quite famous after all. 

He _could_ live without Geralt.

No matter how much he didn’t actually want to. 

Something wet slid down his cheek, thinking it was a tear, he quickly wiped it away, only realizing it was blood when he saw he stain it left on his sleeve. 

The movement had Geralt’s diatribe stuttering to a halt. Jaskier blinked up at him in the sudden silence. Geralt was frowning at, what Jaskier could only assume was a cut on his cheek, where the blood had dripped from. He made an aborted movement to reach out to Jaskier, but seemed to catch himself before he made contact, and lowered his hand. “Jaskier…” Geralt began, sounding much more subdued than he had only a moment ago.

Jaskier glared at him, he was in no shape to be dealing with Geralt’s mood swings right now and decided it was time to get out of there. “Are you done now Witcher, or is there more?” Jaskier sighed, “Cause if not, I’d quite like to get the fuck out of here, and I have a sorceress waiting for my call.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, but Jaskier was having none of it, he covered the witcher’s mouth with his hand to forestall any more yelling, “Nope! You’re time for talking is over, it’s my turn now.” Jaskier told him, and pushed Geralt away from him with the hand he had on his face. Geralt made an annoyed sound, but didn’t say anything even when Jaskier removed his hand. It was only when Jaskier pulled the small glass pebble from his pocket and smeared a bit of his blood on it before smashing it on the ground, that he broke his silence.

“What the devil are you doing Jaskier?” Geralt asked, sounding alarmed.

Jaskier aimed a small, brittle smile at the witcher and shrugged, “Rescuing you.” He knew it didn’t put a dent in the amount of times Geralt had saved him; he knew he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, but it was better than nothing.

He was saved from having to hear Geralt’s thoughts on the matter as a portal opened up right beside them in the small cell. Geralt quickly stepped in front of Jaskier and got ready to shield him from whatever danger this new development brought. Jaskier couldn’t help but huff fondly at the man, always trying to be the hero even if the only person to protect was a useless bard. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes, and shoved past the witcher, grabbing Geralt’s hand as he did and pulled him toward the portal. He was still upset, but not enough to risk losing Geralt this close to the end. “Come on you lunatic, it’s time to get out of here.”

Geralt gripped Jaskier’s hand tight in his own and made him stop before he walked through the portal, “I don’t like this, what if this is a trap?” Jaskier looked back at him and asked the question he dreaded to know the answer to, one he was unsure what he would do if the answer was no, “Just… trust me okay?” 

Geralt studied his face for a long moment, eyes looking over the new bumps and bruises he had acquired on this leg of the journey, before locking in on Jaskier’s eyes. It took everything in him not to fidget in discomfort at having the witcher’s full focus on him, in another situation he would have preened at the attention, but with so much uncertainty about their relationship, it was all a bit too much. 

It felt like ages before Geralt nodded his head, Jaskier let out the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding in a relieved sigh, and with Geralt’s warm hand in his, he led the witcher through the portal. 

* * *

Yennefer was lounging on a large pile of ornate pillows when they exited the portal. Geralt must have seen her, because he quickly let go of Jaskier’s hand once they were safely on the other side of the portal. 

Yennefer arched an eyebrow at them, her eyes lingering longer on Jaskier, no doubt taking in all the new bruises, and reading his mind to figure out how bad it actually was. “What took you so long? I do have better things to do than sit around waiting for a call you know.” Yennefer drawled, so flawlessly pulling off an unconcerned attitude, that Jaskier couldn’t help feeling envious, especially in this current situation. 

His hand felt cold. Jaskier sighed, “Blame the Witcher.” 

Yennefer smirked, “I always do.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Geralt growled, clearly getting fed up with being talked about like he wasn’t standing right there. Jaskier decided to let Yennefer handle the explanations, he was starting to feel a little faint, vision going spotty around the edges; unsurprising really, considering the circumstance. There was also the sudden intense relief of finally having completed his mission. It was a little bittersweet, but knowing Geralt was safe and okay currently outweighed any hurt about the witcher’s feelings- or lack thereof- about him. 

He could live without Geralt, as long as he knew Geralt was at least out there somewhere, being the hero he always tried to deny he was. He would be sad about the rest later.

Jaskier dragged his feet over to the pile of pillows Yennefer had vacated, and collapsed face first onto them. Yennefer would probably yell at him later about getting blood, sweat, and tears all over her fancy lounge pillows, but Jaskier was too tired to care. He was just about to fall asleep when a hand landed softly on his back. Jaskier flinched at the unexpected touch, and turned his head to check for danger, his heart pounded, whole body tensing in preparation to flee. His eyes met molten gold, and it took him a second to recognize Geralt kneeling down in front of him, but once he did, the tension left his body, leaving him feeling boneless and relaxed against the soft cushions. Geralt was here, he was safe, Jaskier was safe, everything was okay.

“Jaskier! Are you alright?” 

Geralt’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away, he also sounded concerned. Jaskier smiled at how nice that would be if it were true and closed his eyes, humming to let Geralt know he was okay. A hand was hesitantly placed on his head, brushing the hair out of his face and running through the messy strands soothingly. That was the last thing Jaskier felt before the exhaustion overcame him and he was claimed by sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I kind of skimmed over a bit here, but I didn't really feel like it would have added much to the story as a whole, it would have just been Jaskier being beat up, so I just didn't. 
> 
> Sorry I didn't have Jaskier and Yen being the badasses they are and fighting there way in to save Geralt, but it just wouldn't have been realistic, this is the same army that Yen fought in canon that took everything she had plus a bunch of other mages to fight. So I couldn't.
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear, Jaskier threw the silver coin at Geralt to make sure he wasn't another doppelganger, and I know I'm playing fast and loose with magic, but it's the best I got. 
> 
> One chapter to go!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, I hope you like!

Geralt stayed crouched beside Jaskier as the bard fell asleep. Almost against his will, he started carding his fingers gently through Jaskier’s dirty brown hair, careful not to pull at any of the tangles in the blood matted locks. Like this, he was able to get a closer look at the damage that had been inflicted upon Jaskier, growing increasingly alarmed as more and more bruises began to blossom dark and ugly across his pale skin. 

Jaskier made a small whimper of pain as Geralt ran his thumb lightly over one of the cuts on his cheek; Geralt pulled his hand back quickly at that, not reaching out to touch the bard again- no matter how much he wanted to, he was unwilling to cause Jaskier any more harm.

He glared over at Yennefer, who was standing just a few feet away, watching them with a bored expression on her face. Geralt knew there was a lot more to Yennefer than what she showed to the world, but he was in no frame of mind to figure her out right now. 

She still hadn’t told Geralt what was going on when he had initially asked, instead, her eyes had followed Jaskier as he limped over to the pillows she had just risen from, and Geralt found himself rushing over to the bard as he lay boneless amongst the cushions, question forgotten in the midst of more immediate concerns. 

Geralt had known Jaskier a long time, he was one of the few constants Geralt had ever had in his life. No matter how much he tried to push the bard away, he always stayed… until the last time, when Geralt finally succeeded in hurting Jaskier enough for him to leave.

In all that time though, Geralt didn’t think he had ever seen Jaskier look as afraid as he had in the moment before he realised it was Geralt that had touched his back as he lay upon the cushions. The fear in his eyes was a mindless desperation to flee, something Geralt was used to seeing in wild animals, not in people; not in Jaskier. It hurt something deep inside of him to see Jaskier looking like that, even if it was only for a moment, even if after he had smiled at Geralt in relief and fallen into a deep sleep. He hated that Jaskier ever had to know that kind of fear, and he didn’t understand how this had happened. 

Geralt ruined most of the good things he had in his life, he knew that, but somehow he had managed to not ruin Jaskier. He pushed him out of his life in anger, he hurt him, but he hadn’t ruined him. That’s why Geralt had stayed away, why he didn’t even try to apologize. He knew the things he said hurt the bard deeply, but at least he was still alive. That was more than most people who associated with Geralt could say. 

Then Jaskier showed up in that cell, _because of him_ , and Geralt felt a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach, at the realization that Jaskier was going to die here trying to rescue him, and there was nothing Geralt could do. 

Jaskier was supposed to be safe; Geralt thought he would be safe. ‘ _You, of all people’_ he had said when he realised why Jaskier was there, ‘ _You, of all people should have stayed out of this.’_

You, of all people, should be _safe._

Then Jaskier had gotten them out, smashed something on the ground and made a damn portal appear; asked Geralt to trust him and took his hand, making Geralt feel warm in a way he had forgotten he could, after a year spent cold and alone, and led him through the portal.

“Are you just going to sit there glaring at me forever?” Yennefer asked, interrupting his thoughts and breaking the silence that had descended upon the room.

“How could you put him in danger like that?” Geralt growled at her.

Yennefer smirked, “For whatever reason, he wanted to help you.”

“I know you were never very fond of him, but for fucks sake Yen, he could have _died_.” Geralt looked back at Jaskier needing to know he was still okay, needing to see that he was still alive. “Why would you involve him in something like this?” 

Yennefer laughed, it sounded mean, “I didn’t involve him in anything Witcher. _He_ found _me._ I wouldn’t have even known you were captured if not for him. He told you this already did he not?” 

Geralt considered that, he vaguely recalled Jaskier saying something about finding Roach and learning of his capture, but the memory was slightly cloudy and overshadowed by the dread he had felt at seeing Jaskier in the cell. “Why would he do this?”

Yennefer sighed and walked over to stand next to Geralt, and for a moment, they both stared down at Jaskier as he slept peacefully through their conversation. “He’s your friend Geralt. No matter what he believed your opinion on the subject to be, he never stopped caring about you.”

“He’s an idiot.” Geralt grumbled, wether it be because Jaskier persisted in calling Geralt a friend, even after everything Geralt had done, or because he believed that the friendship wasn’t mutual- even though Geralt had never given him any reason to think any different, he wasn’t exactly sure. 

Yennefer hummed, “Perhaps, but the same could be said about you.”

Geralt glared at her, she responded with a smirk. 

The room fell back into silence as they watched Jaskier breathe, Geralt tensing up at every little wheeze or whimper the bard made in his sleep. Geralt made a move to reach out and touch him again, but stopped himself before making contact. Yennefer sighed, and placed a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Let’s bring him somewhere more comfortable so we can get him fixed up.”

“Won’t that hurt him? I don’t... want to hurt him.” Geralt cringed at how quiet and uncertain his voice sounded, he hated feeling this way. 

Yennefer smiled softly at him, making her look a lot kinder than she usually did. “He’ll be fine Geralt. He's stronger than you think.”

Though it was meant to reassure him, her words carried an ominous weight that he couldn’t ignore, “What aren’t you telling me Yen?”

Yennefer took her hand off his shoulder, and stared at him in a way that he knew meant she was looking into his mind. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she must have found it because she blinked and turned away from him. “We will talk later, first let’s see to your bard.” She said, and started making her way out of the room, clearly expecting Geralt to follow her with Jaskier. 

Geralt huffed, same Yennefer, different day. 

He did his best to move Jaskier without causing him any extra suffering, gently sitting him up and positioning him in such a way that allowed Geralt to get a hand around his back and under his knees. Jaskier whined a little at the movement, but thankfully stayed asleep, he looked like he really needed the rest.

He laid Jaskier out on the large bed in the room Yennefer had led him into, and followed her instructions to remove his shirt. The bruises that littered Jaskier’s once unblemished body, looking all the more dark and painful against his pale skin, made Geralt indescribably angry. He wanted to find the Nilfgaardians responsible and show them what it really meant to hurt, but they were out of his reach, and there was nothing and no one that he could take his anger out on here, so Geralt grit his teeth and tried to stay out of Yennefer’s way while she helped Jaskier.

“Astonishingly,” Yennefer began, lightly prodding the bruises on Jaskier’s stomach, “there doesn’t seem to be any serious internal damage. He got lucky.”

Geralt shot her an incredulous look, “You call this _lucky?_ ” he waved a hand gesturing to Jaskier, “Look at him Yen, he’s been beat to shit; he’s basically a walking bruise.” He growled, hating the blotted mess that the bruises made on Jaskier’s body.

“Well I didn’t say he wouldn’t be in pain.” Yennefer pursed her lips, “That however, I can do something about.” She got up from her spot on the bed next to Jaskier, and walked over to a dresser on the side of the room to grab the water filled basin sitting on it before bringing it over to Geralt. “You clean up all the blood and dirt while I go mix up something to help with the pain when he wakes up…” She paused and looked down at Geralt’s wrists, “and to figure out a way to get those cuffs off you.” Then she turned and walked out the door.

With Yennefer gone, it was once again just Geralt and Jaskier, but with Jaskier asleep and unable to fill the silence with his incessant chatter, it was really just Geralt, alone with his thoughts. Not an ideal situation, considering the circumstances. 

Geralt walked closer to the bed, placing the basin on the side table within reach, and very carefully sitting down so as to not disturb Jaskier. Thankfully there wasn't too much blood, but there were a few places where the hits Jaskier had taken had broken the skin. Geralt’s lip curled, once again desperately wanting to throttle something in vengeance, but he repressed the urge and instead dipped a cloth into the water basin and started cleaning Jaskier’s body with more care than he would normally put into most anything. 

Geralt would never understand Jaskier’s loyalty to him, or the infinite amount of kindness and good humor he bestowed upon someone like Geralt, who did nothing to deserve it. He cared about Jaskier, of course he did, it was hard not to with the way the bard would smile at him so brightly it lit up the room, but Geralt was under no illusions that he had done anything to show Jaskier that. Geralt knew he was a shit friend, knew that he made Jaskier believe he was more of a burden than anything, when all Jaskier had ever done was try to make his life better. 

Geralt knew he didn’t deserve someone like Jaskier putting himself in danger to help him, especially after the way Geralt treated him and the things he said; blaming Jaskier for his own mistakes, and throwing away decades worth of friendship and the unquestioning loyalty of the only person who had ever stayed beside him of their own free will. No fate or magic wish made Jaskier pick Geralt, for some reason, Jaskier just legitimately liked him, and Geralt had hurt him. He regretted it later, once his anger had cooled and he realized the ramifications of what he had said, when he found himself alone on a mountain with nothing but the echo of hateful lies and Jaskier’s hurt voice saying ‘ _well, that’s not fair_ ’ ringing in his ears. 

Life wasn’t fair, Geralt knew that better than most, but that didn’t give him the right to try and tear down other people because he was having a bad day. Especially not people who only ever wanted to help.

Especially not his only real friend. 

Jaskier never asked for apologies, perhaps because he didn’t expect to get them so he didn’t waste time trying. The only time Geralt could remember Jaskier ever taking great enough offense at something he said to bother asking Geralt to take it back, was when Geralt had insulted his singing. Jaskier hadn’t gotten an apology then either, instead Geralt cursed him with a wish that resulted in Jaskier almost dying. 

The things he said hadn’t been true then either, Geralt liked Jaskier’s music, some of the songs were a bit too upbeat and trivial for his tastes, but Jaskier had such a beautiful, melodic voice that when he sang some of his more sombre, slow songs, Geralt couldn’t help but be swept away by the stories Jaskier weaved. 

It would have been so simple to have just told him these things, to show Jaskier that he valued his companionship, but Geralt hadn’t. Not once. And yet, Jaskier never seemed to hold it against him, never lost that chipper attitude, he just laughed off Geralt’s insults, and snarked back with a smirk. It had gone on for so long that way, that it wasn’t until Jaskier was gone that Geralt realised he had taken the bard for granted, had become so accustomed to him being there, that he never expected him to actually leave. It had been a wake up call, but one that had come too late.

Geralt looked down at the sleeping bard as he gently cleaned the blood from his hair, and wondered if maybe this could be a chance to make up for the wrongs he had done; a chance to be the kind of friend Jaskier deserved, to show him how much he cared. It honestly surprised him at times how much he really did care for Jaskier. It wasn't like with Yennefer, where he had tied their fates together. He cared about her outside of that of course, no matter what she believed, but he couldn’t deny that the way he wanted to be with her was influenced by the wish he made in the heat of the moment. 

With Jaskier though, that was _all_ Geralt. There was nothing that compelled Geralt to be with him, no spur of the moment wish or declaration that forced Geralt to spend time with the bard; there was nothing but Geralt’s own desire to do so… and of course Jaskier’s persistence in following him around. Jaskier wasn’t bound to him through fate or any kind of magical means, and that’s what made their relationship all the more precious to Geralt. It was fragile, it could end at any moment, breaking them apart forever with nothing to tie them back together, and in many ways that’s what made it real; that’s what made it special. They picked each other of their own accord, and stayed together for the same reason. 

Until Geralt ruined it.

Then after a long lonely year, he fucked up and got captured by two idiots who sold him to Nilfgaard. For a while there, in the week he spent wasting away in that cell, Geralt thought that maybe this was his punishment, that he was finally getting what had been coming to him for a long time. 

In the end though, it was once again Jaskier that ended up getting hurt. 

Geralt sighed, wiping the cloth across the last bit of dirt on Jaskier’s neck before dropping it into the now murky basin of water. 

“All done then?” 

Geralt whipped his head around, not having heard Yennefer re-enter the room, she was leaning leisurely against the door frame with an amused smirk on her face. “How long have you been standing there?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Yennefer hummed, “Long enough, but I didn’t want to interrupt your morose little brooding session.”

Geralt didn’t dignify that with a response, Yennefer just rolled her eyes and made her way across the room to stand on the opposite end of the bed from Geralt and tossed him a small vial. “Pour that into the keyholes of the cuffs, it should make the dimeritium brittle enough for you to break them off.”

He grunted his thanks, and did as instructed, easily breaking the cuffs once the liquid was applied. Geralt rubbed his wrists, relieved to finally have them free after so long. Yennefer eyed his wrists with an odd look of trepidation on her face. 

“What?” Geralt asked, voice thick with suspicion.

Yennefer moved over to Jaskier, tipping his head back with more care than Geralt would have expected from her, and poured a potion into his mouth, gently massaging his throat to get him to swallow. She also applied a bit of salve onto some of the worse looking cuts on Jaskier’s face and head, before moving her hand down to hover over Jaskier’s wrist. “The potion should dull most of the pain he’s in, and the salve will help with the healing and prevent scarring, there’s just… one other thing.” Yennefer glanced up at Geralt, “Try not to break anything.” 

“Why would I-” Geralt began to ask, not liking the foreboding implication, when Yennefer murmured a quiet spell. The hand she held over Jaskier’s wrist glowed faintly for a moment, then in the blink of an eye, bruises and wounds that hadn’t been there before appeared on Jaskier’s body. Geralt’s question died on his lips with a sharp intake of breath. If Geralt thought Jaskier looked bad before, it was nothing compared to now. His eyes darted across the expanse of Jaskier’s exposed skin, taking in all the new cuts and bruises, growing angrier and angrier as pieces of a story he didn’t know were laid out before him with every mark on Jaskier’s body. His wrists looked particularly gruesome, the skin was torn and blistered, clearly indicating that he had been bound and pulled around roughly at some point. 

Geralt stood up quickly from the bed, looking away from Jaskier and trying to breathe deeply through the burning rage that swelled within him. His fists were clenched so tightly to stop himself from lashing out indiscriminately, that he felt his nails bite into the skin and the blood trickle over his fingers. Yennefer’s warning made a lot more sense now, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to follow through on her request. The only thing keeping him from punching something was that he didn’t want to disturb Jaskier. 

With nowhere else to turn, he directed his anger at Yennefer, “ _Who_ did this?” Geralt growled through gritted teeth, struggling to speak coherently through the fury. “Where are they?” Geralt longed for his swords, “I need to find them, and _kill them_.” Make them rue the day they laid hands on what was his.

“They’re already dead.” Yennefer told him with a sigh, unconcerned in the face of Geralt’s wrath.

“What happened?” Geralt demanded in a dangerous voice.

“I can’t go giving away all his secrets, but I’ll tell you what you need to know if you calm down, and stop acting like a rabid dog.” Yennefer told him with a glare.

“ _Yennefer!_ ” Geralt snarled, fed up with her withholding important information about Jaskier.

Yennefer’s lip curled up in annoyance at his tone, and for a second, Geralt thought she wasn’t going to tell him, but then she sighed, looked down at Jaskier and laid her hand gently over his. Geralt held back the possessive growl he felt at that and stayed perfectly still, needing to know what happened and dreading it all the same.

“He did what he had to in order to rescue his best friend.” Yennefer looked up at him, this time with sympathy in her eyes, “He saved you Geralt, all this,” she gestured to Jaskier’s wounds, “is the price he paid to do that.”

The anger left Geralt as rapidly as it had come, leaving him feeling cold and once again full of guilt that Jaskier had to go through so much for someone like him.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel like it’s your fault.” Yennefer told him in a much softer tone than before, “Jaskier knew what he was doing was dangerous, he made his own choices.”

Geralt glared at the wall, “That doesn’t make it any better, he still took the risk because of me, he still could have _died_ because of me.”

“Yes he could have,” Yennefer allowed with a sigh, “but he _didn’t_. He’s right here, still alive and as foolhardy as ever. He saved you, and he _survived_ Geralt. Nothing you could have said to him would have stopped him from trying.”

“I’ve said some awful things to him.” Geralt admitted quietly. 

“I know, and yet despite that, he we all still are.”

Geralt turned to look at her, “What happened to him Yen?” he asked, already knowing it would only make him feel worse.

Yennefer eyed him in consideration, likely judging whether or not he would fly into another rage when she told him what she knew. Geralt sat back down on the bed, taking care not to disturb Jaskier, to show her he could handle it calmly. Yennefer narrowed her eyes at him, then sighed and looked over at Jaskier. “He found Roach two days after you had been captured. He also found the men who captured you of course, but once he realized what happened he grabbed Roach and he fled. This is what he told you, yes?”

Geralt grunted in confirmation. That was _all_ he was told, and knowing how effortlessly Jaskier could spin a tale, the lack of detail was frankly a bit alarming.

Yennefer paused again before speaking, “Those same men found him the next morning and held him captive for almost a week.” She told him as gently as probably could.

“Are they the ones who… did this to him?” Geralt croaked, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Most of it, yes. They beat him for fun, whipped him when he misbehaved, bound his wrists and made him walk behind their horses for hours without ever stopping for a rest.” 

Geralt felt the fiery anger and hatred for these men rekindle inside of him, but he ignored it, more interested in what Yennefer was saying for the time being. He would find out exactly how heinous the crimes these men committed against Jaskier were, and _then_ he would destroy them. 

“Why?” Geralt asked, knowing- even though the thought was abhorrent to him, that they should have just killed Jaskier when they found him.

“They were going to sell him.” Yennefer cringed, Geralt knowing what he did of her past- however little it may be, knew that struck a particular cord with her. It hit him pretty hard as well. 

“Where are they?” Geralt growled, but then another thing occurred to him, “How did Jaskier get away?” They wouldn’t have just let him go, and he clearly hadn’t been sold into the slave trade, so how?

“I told you already, they’re dead.”

“Who killed them?” Geralt asked, not understanding, or perhaps just unwilling to.

Yennefer arched an eyebrow at him and then looked pointedly at Jaskier. Geralt followed her gaze, but he was having trouble accepting what she was trying to tell him. Jaskier didn’t kill people, he would never. He wasn’t built the same way as Geralt, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, it would haunt him. Jaskier was meant for the light, joyful side of life, not the dark, gruesome side of death. Geralt didn’t want him to have to know that feeling of holding someone’s life in his hands, and brutally ending it.

“He wouldn’t.” Geralt said, with only the smallest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“He did.” Yennefer confirmed, “I told you he was stronger than you think.”

Geralt frowned at her, “It’s not a matter of strength Yen, that’s not Jaskier. He wouldn’t do something like that unless he was desperate; unless he had no other choice.”

“He _didn’t_ have any other choice Geralt. He was about to be sold into slavery, and you were in danger.” Yennefer took Jaskier’s hand and turned it over to reveal the healing wounds on his palms, “He did the only thing he could.”

Geralt took Jaskier’s other hand and turned it over, finding the same marks on this palm as well. Geralt was familiar with a great number of injuries and what caused them, the evidence here spoke for itself, Jaskier must have used the rope the men had bound him with in order to strangle them, rubbing his own skin raw in the process. 

Geralt tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hand, “Is that all?” He asked, hoping to whoever would listen that it was. 

Yennefer laid Jaskier’s hand back down, and stood from the bed, “No, but it’s all I’m going to tell you. The rest is Jaskier’s to tell if he so chooses.” 

Geralt didn’t like not knowing, and he was tempted to demand more information, but in a way he was relieved, he honestly wasn't sure how much more he could take at the moment. “Where are you going?” he asked her instead.

Yennefer put a hand on her hip, “I am going to bed. I would tell you to do the same, but I know you won’t listen.” She smirked knowingly at him, “Goodnight Geralt.” 

“Goodnight Yen.”

She made her way over to the door, stopping before she exited the room to look back at him, “Oh and Geralt?” 

“Hmm?” He grunted, looking over at her.

“You’re lucky to have him. Try not to lose him this time.” Yennefer warned, turning back around and walking out the door. 

“I know.” Geralt murmured quietly to himself, settling down more comfortably on the bed and looked down at Jaskier, if he had any say in the matter, he wouldn’t ever lose Jaskier again.

* * *

An hour or so later, Geralt- who had managed to fall into a light doze, was startled awake by a fear filled cry. His eyes darted around the room to find the threat, but there was nothing there; nothing had changed since Yennefer had left. The silence was broken by another cry, Geralt jerked his head around in the direction of the noise, and found Jaskier shaking, holding the bed sheets in a tight, white knuckled grip, and making quiet noises of distress, interspersed with the occasional loud cries that had awoken Geralt. There were tear tracks on his face, but his eyes remained closed. He was clearly having a nightmare, and Geralt wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

“Jaskier.” He tried, calling him softly, hoping to wake him up without scaring him further, but the only thing his attempt resulted in was another cry from Jaskier. 

“Jaskier.” He said louder, and Jaskier stilled, “Geralt?” He asked, it sounded like a sob, and Geralt hated hearing Jaskier like this. 

“I’m here.” Geralt affirmed, wanting Jaskier to open his eyes, so Geralt could see for himself that Jaskier was okay. But he didn’t, he just whined again, “Geralt where are you?” he cried out, more tears leaking from his eyes, and Geralt realized Jaskier was still asleep, and evidently having a nightmare about him. 

“Geralt please! I’m sorry!” Jaskier whimpered. 

Geralt grit his teeth, Jaskier had nothing to be sorry about. He reached out and took the bard’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together in an effort to comfort him, and called his name again, gently tugging on the hand he was holding to try and shake Jaskier awake. “Come on Jaskier, it’s just a dream. It’s time to wake up now okay? You can yell at me all you want to once you do.” Jaskier didn’t wake immediately, still making those awful whimpering cries, so Geralt just kept talking, about anything he could think of to let Jaskier know he was there. 

A few minutes later, the cries started to taper off until they stopped completely, and it wasn’t long after that Jaskier was groggily blinking his eyes open to stare up at Geralt. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, looking and sounding more fragile than Geralt had ever seen him.

“I’m here Jaskier.” Geralt told him, squeezing his fingers around Jaskier’s to show him that this wasn’t still a dream. 

Jaskier looked down at their joined hands then back up at Geralt like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re really here? I found you?” 

“I’m really here Jaskier, you found me.” Geralt smiled softly at him, rubbing his thumb against the side of Jaskier’s hand. 

Jaskier looked blown away by this revelation, letting out a soft little “Oh.” and looking up at him with wide tear filled eyes. “Please don’t leave.” Jaskier asked, sounding choked up.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaskier.” Geralt said, looking deep into Jaskier’s blue eyes, needing him to know he was telling the truth. “I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up, so just go back to sleep, everything will be okay.” 

Jaskier studied him in the dim light, for a moment before his eyelids started to droop, “Thank you.” Jaskier sighed as he fell back to sleep.

“It should be me saying that.” Geralt huffed, resituating himself so that his back was against the headboard and Jaskier’s head was next to his hip. 

Geralt didn’t let go of Jaskier’s hand, keeping it held tightly in his as he too fell back to sleep.

* * *

When Jaskier woke up some time later, he wasn’t sure where he was, but he was incredibly warm and comfortable. His upper body rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic way, and there was a soft thumping in his ear, both of which nearly lulled him back to sleep. It took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that the movement was someone’s breathing and that the thumping was their heart, and that he had evidently been sleeping on someone’s chest- a very male someone’s, if the lack of breasts and the firm muscles he now noticed his hand was resting on were any indication. 

Having no recollection of going to bed with anyone last night, let alone a man, Jaskier opened his eyes wide, pushing back from the nice, comfortable, warmth to get a look at the person in bed with him. 

Jaskier gasped at the familiar sight of the dirty white locks and the angular rugged face, feelings of happiness and relief swelled within him. Then just as quickly, the confusion came. He would have remembered going to bed with Geralt, even though judging by the fully clothed state Geralt was in, and the fact that Jaskier himself was only missing a shirt, nothing besides sleep had actually happened. 

Jaskier raised his hand, moving it hesitantly up to Geralt’s face. _Maybe this is a dream_ , he thought to himself, he had certainly had his fair share of weird ones recently, and most of them featured Geralt in some fashion. Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek in his palm, lightly stroking his face with his thumb. Most of his dreams eventually turned into nightmares, might as well enjoy the nice part while he had the chance.

It was only a few moments later that Geralt opened his eyes, blinking up at Jaskier with an oddly fond look on his face. Jaskier smiled down at him, and to his surprise Geralt smiled back. Jaskier liked this dream a lot.

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked, voice gruff with sleep. Jaskier didn’t know if it was the question that did it, or everything else just finally caught up to him, but it was then that he noticed that he was actually in a fair amount of pain. Then the memories came back, and it fleetingly occurred to him that he should probably be in a lot more pain all things considered, but more importantly, he realized this wasn’t actually a dream.

“Oh.” Jaskier breathed, feeling faint and quickly removing his hand from Geralt’s cheek and recoiling away from him. He made it to the other side of the bed and would have gone farther had Geralt not quickly sat up and grabbed his hand, preventing him from fleeing.

Jaskier stared at their hands, his limp, while Geralt’s gripped it tightly, and recalled impulsively grabbing Geralt’s hand in much the same fashion back in the Nilfgaardian cell. Jaskier was so confused, the only thought running through his mind was just a constant stream of ‘ _What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?’_

“Jaskier.” Geralt called. Jaskier’s head shot up, and he took note of the grimace on Geralt’s face that had replaced his smile. Had that smile even been real? Or had he just misinterpreted it? Had he thought it was a friendly smile when in fact it was a smile promising death because Jaskier had the audacity to touch Geralt without permission. 

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, but Jaskier rushed to speak over him, “I’m sorry.” 

Geralt’s mouth hung open slightly, frowning at Jaskier for a moment before responding, “What- Jaskier, you have _nothing_ to apologize for.” 

“But, I-” Jaskier began, not even entirely sure what he wanted to say, he just felt like he was supposed to apologize, for touching Geralt, for being here where he wasn’t wanted, for everything really, but Geralt cut him off.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut, at Geralt’s words. He wasn’t even sure what to think about that, let alone form a coherent response. Geralt didn’t apologize. He didn’t say _sorry_. Occasionally he would do things to show that he felt bad about the way he acted, but that was about it. This was… beyond Jaskier’s wildest imaginations, and considering his profession, that was saying something. 

That’s not all to imply he hadn’t _wanted_ an apology from Geralt every now and again, words- and punches, do hurt quite a lot depending on who delivered them, but he never actually expected to receive one. He wasn’t even entirely sure _what_ Geralt was apologizing for. There were numerous things Jaskier _wished_ he was talking about, but none that he believed Geralt cared enough about to address.

Jaskier glanced up at Geralt, then back down to their joined hands, “Um… what for?” Jaskier asked hesitantly. 

“Are you being serious right now?” Geralt asked, Jaskier chanced another glance at his face and found Geralt shooting a look at him, full of disbelief and something Jaskier would have called sadness on any other person.

“Yes?” Jaskier cautioned, honestly having no idea what this was all about.

“Fuck Jaskier, where do I even begin.” Geralt growled, running the hand not still holding Jaskier’s through his hair.

The question was clearly meant to be rhetorical, so Jaskier remained silent and directed his gaze back down at the rumpled blanket on the bed. 

Geralt muttered a few curses before he actually started saying whatever it was he was planning on telling him, and Jaskier figured if he was actually going to apologize, he probably just needed to psych himself up a bit first. It was almost humorous enough to make him smile, but then Geralt started talking, sounding much more somber than he had before.

“I treated you like nothing more than a nuisance for years, I almost killed you with that damn djinn wish,” Geralt’s voice wavered slightly, and _oh_ , Jaskier hadn’t actually realized that’s what happened, he’d been too busy coughing up blood at the time to really analyze the situation. “I almost got you killed a hundred times, and then I had the nerve to _blame_ _you_ for the shit fest my life has been, when all you’ve ever done was make it better. Then to top it all off, I got captured and you got hurt saving me!” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened at every word out of Geralt’s mouth, this was not at all what he expected to hear, he felt the tears begin to build up, and Geralt hadn’t even finished speaking. 

“I am so fucking sorry Jaskier, more sorry than I’ve ever been.” Geralt clutched Jaskier’s hand tighter, “Can you ever forgive me?” 

“Geralt,” Jaskier began quietly, “I didn’t do any of this to make you feel guilty. I didn’t blame you either.” Jaskier laughed hollowly and stopped trying to keep what he went through a secret, “Even when those mercenaries captured me; even when that doppler used your face to hurt me, I never blamed you, I just wanted to save you, no matter the cost.” 

“Jaskier, what-!?” Geralt tried to ask, sounding alarmed, but Jaskier wasn’t done, “I didn’t even know if you would want to see me after everything, but it didn’t matter.” Jaskier looked up into Geralt’s eyes, “I killed people Geralt, and I hated it, more than anything I’ve ever had to do. I hated it, but I would do it again in a second if that was the only way to help you.” 

Geralt stared at him with wide eyes, and between one second and the next, Geralt had pulled Jaskier toward him, till he was practically sitting in Geralt’s lap, and wrapped him in a warm embrace. Jaskier’s cheeks were wet, he hadn’t even realized he had started crying.

“I never wanted you to have to go through any of this Jaskier, it’s why I pushed you away, I wanted you to be safe.” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier even closer to him with one hand around his waist and the other tangled up in his hair, cradling his head and holding Jaskier like he never wanted to let him go; like he was precious. 

“You don’t hate me?” Jaskier asked through the tears, keeping his arms limp at his sides. 

“Never.” Geralt growled. 

With that simple word, Jaskier couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Geralt’s waist, clutch the back of his shirt tightly, and burrow his face into the witcher’s neck. It was like a weight had been lifted off of him, Geralt didn’t hate him, and he felt truly safe for the first time in a long while. “I thought I was going to die! I was so scared, and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t stop.” Jaskier sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay Jaskier.” Geralt said, trying to soothe him, but Jaskier couldn’t stop. 

“I killed them!” Jaskier wailed, feeling the reality of it all hit him once again. “They were going to hurt Roach and sell me or kill me; I had no other choice!”

“I know Jaskier, and I’m so sorry. For everything.” Geralt told him, and didn’t let him go as Jaskier continued to cry, finally having the time to process all the pain and trauma he had gone through. 

Jaskier didn’t know how long they stayed like that, with him crying, and Geralt offering him comfort, both with his presence and with nice little comments telling him ‘it’s all okay now, you saved me; I’m here because of you, because of how brave you were; thank you,’ but it must have been awhile. Once the tears dried up and Jaskier felt stable enough to speak, he pulled back a bit to look at Geralt, “I forgive you.” Yennefer would probably be upset that he didn’t make Geralt work harder for it, but Jaskier didn’t want to be sad or angry anymore, he just wanted his friend back. Holding a grudge wouldn’t get him anywhere except back where he had been for the last year- lonely and sad. The apology alone was more than he ever expected, and the hug was like something out of one of his favorite dreams. This was more than enough for him. 

Geralt’s eyes looked a little watery as he looked back at Jaskier, but there was a small smile on his lips, “You probably shouldn’t, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Jaskier then, “Now what’s all this about a doppler?”

Jaskier felt his face heat, he shouldn’t have mentioned the doppler, he wasn’t even sure whether to feel embarrassed or ashamed about the whole thing, and he really didn’t want to tell Geralt, but he knew the man wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Oh, um… I was on my way to find Yennefer, and a doppler showed up looking like you, to trick me so they could get my face…” Jaskier cringed, “It was deeply unsettling, but I managed to grab your sword and handle it. No big deal.” Jaskier tried to smile reassuringly at Geralt, but it came across as more of a grimace. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him, clearly expecting a better explanation. Jaskier sighed, “It said some awful things to try and hurt me, but it's okay now, it’s over, and if it’s all the same to you I’d rather just stop talking about it and try to forget it.” 

Geralt studied him for a moment, and Jaskier was worried he was going to push it, but then he sighed, “Alright, I won’t force you to tell me something you don’t want to, but just know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about it okay?” He asked gruffly, and Jaskier had to temper down the blinding grin he felt break out across his face at that. “Okay.”

Jaskier considered moving away from Geralt now that their little heart to heart was over, and he was still effectively sitting in the man’s lap, but before Jaskier could move, Geralt cleared his throat looking uncomfortable. “Listen,” he said, and the last remnants of a smile fell off Jaskier’s face. He knew this was all too good to be true.

Geralt unwrapped his arms from around Jaskier so that he could grab Jaskier’s biceps in a tight hold. “I need you to promise me that you won’t do something like this again Jaskier. I appreciate it a lot, I really do, but you just can’t” 

Jaskier had expected a lot of things to come out of Geralt’s mouth, from him letting Jaskier down easily, to telling him they still couldn’t be friends, but he hadn’t been expecting this. It wasn’t even the worst thing Geralt could have said, but after everything he had gone through and everything they had _just_ talked about, something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

He glared at Geralt, moving his hands up to push at the man’s chest, to shove him away, but Geralt held fast, “What the hell are you talking about?” Jaskier hissed, “I’m not going to promise that! These were the worst few weeks of my life Geralt, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go through it all again if you were in trouble. That’s what friends do!” Jaskier insisted loudly, starting to get worked up, “I know I wouldn’t be your first choice, and I’m not exactly cut out to be the hero of any story- let alone yours, but you can’t honestly think I could be so weak and cowardly that I would do nothing if I knew you were in danger!” 

Geralt looked visibly distressed at the things Jaskier was saying, “That’s not- I didn’t mean-” Geralt shook Jaskier lightly in frustration, “Damn it Jaskier, you just can’t!” 

“Why not!?” Jaskier asked, feeling exasperated and confused by all the conflicting information he was getting.

Geralt’s fingers dug into the skin of Jaskier’s arms, just enough to be uncomfortable, “Because I can’t lose you again!” Geralt growled, “I already did once through my own stupidity, I can’t go do that again Jaskier. I won’t.” Geralt’s eyes blazed with desperation, but his words did nothing to soothe Jaskier, if anything they only made him more indignant. Wasn’t that just like Geralt to always try and be the hero, trying to be a martyr when really all he was was a selfish idiot. ‘ _I can’t lose you’, ‘I can’t do that again’._ Well what about how Jaskier felt? Was his unwillingness to see Geralt hurt somehow less important? Fuck that.

“You don’t think I feel the exact same way?” Jaskier seethed, Geralt was such an asshole, the absolute worst person Jaskier had ever met, who the fuck did he think he was. Jaskier pounded his his hand against Geralt’s chest, but the man refused to let him go, “I love you, you stupid idiot!” Jaskier yelled in frustration, not even realizing what he said. 

Geralt’s grip on his arms loosened, but Jaskier didn’t notice, he just continued to shout at Geralt about what a gods damned moron he was.

Geralt tried calling his name to get his attention, but Jaskier was on a roll, “I’ve known you for more than half my life you prick, don’t you know I would do anything for you!?” 

“Jaskier.” Geralt tried again, but Jaskier ignored him.

“But oh no, gods forbid, the great Geralt of Rivia gets help from a lowly bard.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted, Jaskier just talked over him, he was used to that.

“ _I can’t lose you again Jaskier_ ,” Jaskier mocked, doing a bad impersonation of Geralt’s voice, “Yeah well, if you’re dead, you lose me anyway asshole.” he huffed glaring at Geralt, “You’re such a-” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Geralt growled, cutting Jaskier off, pulling him close and halting any further protests Jaskier may have been planning to make by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s in a fierce kiss.

Jaskier let out a startled gasp, eyes open wide in surprise. 

Geralt was _kissing_ him.

 _Geralt_ was kissing _him._

This didn’t even happen in his dreams. He either woke up before it did, or the dream turned into a nightmare.

Geralt nipped at Jaskier’s lips, and _holy fuck_ this was really happening.

Anger momentarily forgotten, Jaskier climbed the rest of the way onto Geralt’s lap, wrapping his legs around the witcher’s waist, tangling his fingers in his hair, and kissing Geralt like his life depended on it. It was nothing like kissing the doppler, the two weren’t even comparable. The doppler had kissed Jaskier like he wanted to ruin him. Geralt kissed Jaskier like it was his job, like Jaskier was the only person in the world that mattered; it was full of a fiery protectiveness that burned Jaskier to his core, rekindling the flame inside of him that had nearly gone out in the painful year he had spent without Geralt by his side. 

Jaskier had kissed many people in his life, and he had loved all of them to some degree, but none of them had kissed him like this, none of them made him feel like this. His heart pounded as Geralt licked into his mouth, making his toes curl. Jaskier moaned out loud, pulling Geralt impossibly closer. Jaskier felt like he was melting, all his thoughts trickled away until the only thing left was a desperate voice inside his head screaming for Geralt and pleading for more. Jaskier had never wanted anything so bad as he wanted Geralt in that moment. 

Geralt slid his hands around Jaskier’s thighs, making him break the kiss with a gasp. Geralt used the opportunity to push Jaskier backward onto the bed and slot himself between Jaskier’s legs, putting all his weight onto Jaskier, surrounding and engulfing him, until all he could feel, see, smell, and think of, was Geralt, it was everything he ever wanted and more. The depths of his feelings for this man were unfathomable, and Jaskier had been drowning in them; kissing Geralt, being here like this with him, it was like Jaskier had finally found the oxygen he needed to survive. 

Time ceased to have meaning as they kissed, in this moment, nothing else mattered and Jaskier never wanted it to stop. Geralt moaned his name and Jaskier felt his heart flutter; at any other time it would probably be embarrassing, but right now all he felt was sappy and content. 

Gods he loved this man so much.

His stupid, beautiful, wonderful, fool. 

_Why the hell hadn’t they done this sooner?_ Jaskier asked himself as Geralt rolled his hips against Jaskier’s. _There was a reason, wasn’t there?_ It was hard to think through the haze of wanton lust consuming his mind, but something inside of him knew it was important. _They hadn’t done this sooner because…?_

_Oh._

_Right._

_Because Geralt didn’t love Jaskier like Jaskier loved him. Because Geralt loved Yennefer._

Jaskier reluctantly broke away from the kiss with a gasp, turning his head to the side. Geralt didn’t stop though, he just moved on to a new location, which just happened to be Jaskier’s neck, mouthing gently over the fading bruises circling his throat. Jaskier let out a breathy whine of protest and tried not to fall back into the mindless, desperate need.

“Geralt wait.” Jaskier protested feebly. Geralt hmmed, licking up Jaskier’s neck and nipping at his earlobe. 

Jaskier untangled his fingers from Geralt’s hair and used one of his hands to try and push Geralt’s face away, “Hang on, stop, time out.” Jaskier panted, feeling incredibly hot and flustered, he tried to go back to being annoyed but failed miserably.

Nothing seemed to deter Geralt, not even the hand covering his face, he just worked with what he had and sucked one of Jaskier’s fingers into his mouth. Jaskier nearly swallowed his own tongue.

“Geralt seriously, stop.” Jaskier squeaked, pulling his hand away.

Geralt grunted, but finally moved away, propping himself up with his arms on either side of Jaskier’s head and looking down at him, “What’s wrong?” He asked, concern evident even with how gravely his voice sounded.

Jaskier blinked up at the man looming over him, and suddenly felt very small and foolish for pushing Geralt away, but he had to. Jaskier didn’t think his heart could take it if Geralt was only doing this out of pity or some twisted form of gratitude. 

“What about Yennefer?” Jaskier asked. Afraid as he was to be hurt, he needed to know the truth.

“What about her?” Geralt sighed.

“You’re in love with her.” Jaskier said weakly, feeling tears prickle behind his eyes, he was so sick of crying, but that probably wouldn’t be changing in the immediate future.

Geralt grimaced, “Jaskier, it’s not like that- _we’re_ not like that anymore. I’ll always care about her, and she’s always going to be a part of my life, but she was right. I bound our fates together with that wish I made, and then I convinced myself she was the only for me; that we were destined to be together and there was no other choice.” Geralt took a deep breath. “I convinced myself I was in love with her, and for awhile I really was, but then things changed and I realized no matter how much I did actually love her, I wasn’t _in love_ with her anymore, and I could no longer convince myself otherwise.”

“What changed?” Jaskier asked so softly it was almost a whisper.

Geralt looked down at him with a small bittersweet smile on his face, “I found the person I truly loved. Unfortunately it took me losing them to figure that out, and by then it was too late.” Geralt moved his hand to gently cup Jaskier’s cheek, “Then they risked their life to save me, even though I was an unredeeable bastard to them, and followed that up with calling me a stupid idiot when they told me they loved me.” Geralt smirked.

Jaskier felt like the bottom had dropped out of his world, “Me?”

Geralt stroked his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek, “You.”

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.” Jaskier mumbled, his face was on fire and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, but he needed to be sure.

“Julian,” Geralt sighed, voice thick with sincerity, “if life could give me one blessing, it would be you.”

Jaskier let out a mirthful laugh as tears spilled down his cheeks, “You’re such an idiot.” 

Geralt smiled, and leaned down to press his forehead to Jaskier’s, “I know, but you love me anyway.”

Jaskier curled his hands around Geralt’s neck, “I do.” He said fondly, full of happy disbelief that he was actually getting to say these things to Geralt.

“I love you too.” Geralt said, and kissed him again. 

This time, Jaskier didn’t stop him.

* * *

They spent a good few hours in bed together after that, doing their best to make up for lost time, but inevitably they had to get up and face the real world again. Both of them were starving, and it was about time for Jaskier to take another potion- if the pain he felt slowly seeping back into his awareness and ruining the possibility of any more fun activities was any indication.

Yennefer was waiting for them in the dining room when they arrived, sipping her apple juice and smirking at them in amusement over the rim of her cup. “Well it’s about time, the food is already set out for you, come sit.” She beconned, and they went and sat down at the table, Yennefer at the head with Geralt and Jaskier on either side of her. Yennefer handed him a small vial, “I was worried Geralt wasn’t ever going to let you leave. He’s quite insatiable isn’t he Jaskier?” Yennefer grinned at him, and Jaskier felt his face heat as he swallowed down the liquid, feeling his pain begin to melt away. People said he was a philanderer, but one minute in a room with these two and he felt like a blushing virgin again, it was ridiculous. 

“Yennefer.” Geralt said warningly.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “Oh settle down Geralt, I won’t hurt your _lover_.” She rolled the word salaciously, 

“Yennefer.” Jaskier whined, feeling embarrassed despite himself, and perhaps a little worried that she was mad at him, and just hiding it behind a bit of amused jokes at his expense. 

The amusement left her expression at that thought, her smile dimmed down into something much softer, and she placed a hand gently on his, Jaskier saw Geralt blink in surprise in his periphery. “I’m not mad at you Jaskier.” she told him kindly, he knew it probably should bother him when she read his mind, but somehow it just made things easier, simpler. Her words didn’t stop him from feeling guilty though, like he had done something wrong. She frowned at him in dismay, but waited for him to speak. “I just feel like… he was yours first, and I stole him from you.” He said quietly, staring down at the half eaten food on his plate.

“Jaskier-!” Geralt started to protest, but Yennefer held up a finger indicating for him to be silent, and amazingly the witcher listened.

“Julian look at me.” Yennefer commanded softly, Jaskier raised his eyes to meet hers. “He was _always_ yours, I just borrowed him for a little while.” She squeezed his hand, “You have nothing to feel guilty about, you didn’t do anything wrong. All that really matters is if you’re happy. Are you happy Jaskier?”

Jaskier gave her a watery smile, “Yes, I’m happy.” He chuckled, “I’m _really_ happy.” He glanced over at Geralt who was staring at him with the same expression he had been when he told Jaskier he loved him. Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked back at Yennefer who looked pleased with the whole situation. “Good.” She said, “I still think you forgave him too easily, but I’m glad it all worked out in the end either way.”

A cloudy look came over her face then, “Now, I truly hate to rain on your good mood, but we have a problem.” The atmosphere around the table took a sharp turn as Yennefer continued, “Nilfgaard is continuing its march North, the mages have decided to make a stand against them at Sodden Hill, and I’m going to help them.” 

“I’ll gladly help, I’d love to get my hands on some of those bastards for what they did.” Geralt growled. “Mmhm.” Jaskier nodded, he had no desire to get in the middle of what sounded like a huge battle between a bunch of mages and a literally army, but he wanted to help however he could. 

Yennefer sighed, “I appreciate it, but I’m not telling you this to get you to come along, I’m telling you, because the time for rest and relaxation is over, and we need to get ready because everything is about to change.” Yennefer grimaced, “Though I am loath to have to separate the two of you so soon after your reunion, I don’t see another way.”

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked, with no small amount of unease.

“Geralt needs to go find Cirilla before Nilfgaard does. I don’t know why they want her but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.” 

Geralt looked solemn, but Jaskier was confused, “Why wouldn’t I just go with him?”

Yennefer smiled at him sympathetically, “Jaskier, you need to stay here and rest. Your wounds haven’t healed yet, and you’ve pushed your body past its breaking point for over a week. It would be unwise for you to travel right now, even if there _wasn’t_ any danger.”

“But I-” Jaskier started to say but was cut off by Geralt.

“She’s right Jaskier, I don’t like it any more than you do, but you need to heal, and I need you to be safe.” 

Jaskier looked away from both of them, once again feeling inadequate and useless.

Yennefer tugged his hand and he looked over at her, “Don’t for one second think this means we think any less of you Jaskier. I’ve seen what you can do with my own eyes, and Geralt is only here now because of you. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but you’ve been through a lot, and neither one of us wants to see you hurt.”

Geralt cleared his throat, “While I have no idea when the two of you started getting along, and am honestly not quite sure how I feel about it, Yennefer is right. You need to rest Jaskier, you _deserve_ to rest. We’ll handle everything and be back before you know it okay?”

Jaskier scrunched up his face, the things they said made him feel better, even if the situation still wasn’t ideal, “I don’t like it, but okay. As long as you promise to come back.” Jaskier knew it wasn’t practical in the world they lived in to ask such a thing, but he needed to hear it anyway.

Geralt looked at him for a long moment before he spoke, “I promise I’ll always come back to you Jaskier, not even death could keep me away.”

It was morbid as hell, Yennefer clearly thought so as well if her snort was anything to go by, but Jaskier couldn’t help smiling dopily at Geralt, it was such a Geralt thing to say, Jaskier felt like swooning. 

“When do you have to leave?” He asked, trying not to feel upset about being left behind and mostly succeeding. 

“The sooner the better. I’m traveling by portal magic, but I can take you with me. Sodden Hill is closer to Cintra than here, and Cirilla couldn’t have gotten very far, it’s probably your best bet.” Yennefer said, patting Jaskier’s hand before rising to her feet.

Geralt nodded with a grimace, he seemed to really hate portals for some reason, “Okay, I’ll get ready to go… though come to think of it I don’t actually know where any of my stuff is.” He said, looking at Jaskier questioningly. 

Jaskier smiled, “Don’t worry, all your stuff is safe with… Oh my gosh Roach! I didn’t even go see her to tell her we were okay!” Jaskier exclaimed, leaping from his seat in alarm “Come on Geralt!” he shouted and rushed out the door, heading to the stables.

He heard Geralt and Yennefer laughing quietly behind him, and Yennefer telling Geralt she would meet them outside once she was ready.

It felt like ages since he had last laid eyes on Roach, since he said goodbye and headed off to Hochebuz to rescue Geralt, not sure whether or not he would ever return. 

“Hello Beautiful.” He greeted her with a smile as he entered the stables, she knickered at him in response when he reached her. Jaskier ran a hand down the side of her neck and pressed his forehead to her chest, “I got him back Roach.” Jaskier told her, “I can’t even believe it myself, but I got him back.” Roach rested her head lightly on top of his with a sigh. 

Jaskier pulled back a bit to look at her, “I’m sorry I didn’t come tell you sooner, I was just a little banged up.” Roach nudged his face with her snout and he laughed, “Yes, yes alright, I know. I have nothing to be sorry for.” He smirked, “You know you’re the third person today to tell me that.”

“You’re talking to Roach?” Geralt asked, suddenly appearing by Jaskier’s side, causing him to jump and glare at the witcher who just smirked.

“Of course I’m talking to Roach.” Jaskier scoffed, “We’ve known each other a long time, and we’ve gotten to know each other quite well over the past week. She’s an excellent conversationalist,” He side eyed Geralt, “much better than you anyway.”

Geralt snorted, “Fair enough.” He walked up to Roach and pet her mane fondly, she nudged his face with hers, clearly excited to see Geralt again. “Thanks for taking care of him for me.” He told her. Jaskier huffed, and Geralt looked at him with a smile, grabbing Jaskier’s hand and tangling their fingers together, “And thank you for looking out for her.”

Jaskier blushed, feeling the heat from Geralt’s hand seep into him and spread a tingling warmth through his whole body. “It was nothing, she’s a wonderful lady, it was my pleasure.” Jaskier waved it off, trying not to sound too flustered. “All your stuff is over there by the way.” He said, pointing to the storage area, where the saddlebags were. “Swords and everything.”

“Thank you.” Geralt said again and Jaskier ducked his head. 

Then they went about getting everything packed up and ready to go, making sure Roach was fed and the saddle bags were secured. Jaskier took his lute from the pile and held it delicately in his hands. Geralt looked over at him, “Planning to write any songs about the last few weeks?” He asked with none of the judgement that had been so apparent back in the Nilfgaardian cell coloring his voice, he just sounded curious. Jaskier hummed, “Maybe one or two.” There weren't a whole lot of things he wanted to remember from the last few weeks, let alone have other people sing about. This morning however, was a different story entirely, full of moments he never wanted to forget. He might end up keeping whatever songs he did write to himself though. He had never been a very private person, but some things were special.

“I’d love to hear them if you do.” Geralt told him softly.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him, “I thought you said my singing was like a filling-less pie.”

Geralt grimaced, “Ah, you remember that.” Jaskier shot him a deeply unimpressed look and he continued. “I was exhausted, and I was an ass. I really do like your songs, just not so much the cheery tavern ones.” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him. “You have a very nice voice… I like it.” Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier burst out laughing, “You look like someone just asked you to cuddle with a necker. Giving compliments really isn’t your strong suit.”

“I’m serious.” Geralt grumbled. 

Jaskier smiled softly at him, “I know. I appreciate it. You can be the first to hear whatever song I write.” He pressed his lips to Geralt’s fondly, letting the man know there were no hard feelings- also just because he could. Jaskier might still end up keeping the songs to himself, but he’d let Geralt be the exception, the songs were almost certainly going to be about him anyway. He pulled away from Geralt, who tried to follow so he could kiss Jaskier again. Jaskier shook his head in amusement and allowed him another kiss before pulling back for real, “We should probably head out to the front, I’m sure Yennefer is waiting for you by now.”

Geralt grabbed his hand again and they led Roach outside. 

Yennefer was indeed already waiting for them when they arrived. 

“Took you love birds long enough.” She snarked, looking flawless as ever in her latest outfit.

“Yes well, I am rather irresistible.” Jaskier sassed right back, feeling much better about everything now that they had spoken. “You had your chance with me Yennefer, when I was lying shirtless in your bed, but I’m sorry to tell you, that offer is no longer available.”

Geralt made a possessive noise at his side, and tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier nearly rolled his eyes at him, the man was ridiculous. Yennefer smirked at Geralt’s reaction, “How tragic for me.” She deadpanned. “Now say goodbye to your bard Geralt, and let’s be on our way.” She directed a small wave at Jaskier, “It was surprisingly nice to see you again Jaskier, we should do it again sometime under less dire circumstances. We can even trade some gossip about our fool of a witcher here.”

Geralt growled, Jaskier just shook his head in amusement, “I look forward to it. Thank you for everything Yennefer.”

“Don’t mention it.” She paused, “Seriously, I can’t have people thinking I’m nice.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled and she turned away, giving them a bit of privacy.

Jaskier turned to Roach, petting her snout, “You look after him for me okay?” She snorted, Jaskier took that to mean ‘Of course she would, what kind of question is that’ which was fair. Then he looked at Geralt, who still hadn’t let go of his hand, if anything he was holding it even tighter than before. 

Geralt looked solemn, Jaskier could understand the feeling. They had just reunited and already they had to part ways. 

“It won’t be forever.” Geralt told, like he could see what Jaskier was thinking from the look on his face. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

“I know.” Jaskier said softly, and he really did believe Geralt, it was just hard. There were a lot of times over the past few weeks that Jaskier had told himself he would be fully prepared to leave Geralt’s side if that was what the witcher wanted; that he would be perfectly fine without Geralt. That was still true of course, he would be fine, he just didn’t expect Geralt to want to stay with him quite so much, and somehow it made saying goodbye so much harder.

“I’m gonna need someone to help me look after Cirilla. I’m not exactly built for child care.” Geralt tried to joke, it fell a little flat, but Jaskier laughed anyway. “No I suppose you aren’t… then again, neither am I. We’ll probably have to get Yennefer involved since she’s really the only one of us who has any sense.” Roach stamped her foot, “Other than Roach of course.” Jaskier amended, nodding at her.

“I wouldn’t ever say it to her face, but you’re probably right.” Geralt grumbled. Then he looked at Jaskier seriously, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“I know.” 

Geralt untangled their fingers and cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s and inhaling deeply, “I love you Julian.” 

Jaskier felt his face flush, he looked into Geralt’s eyes and from this distance, they took up almost his entire vision, turning his world into a warm pool of swirling gold. “I know.” Jaskier said again with a small smile, amazed that it was true, “I love you too.” He said happily and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. 

They both reluctantly pulled away after a few moments. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Jaskier sighed.

“And I don’t want to leave you.” Geralt said softly.

“Just be safe okay? And I’ll see you when you return.” Jaskier told him, grabbing Geralt’s hand in a loose hold. 

Geralt raised their joined hands and pressed a delicate kiss to Jaskier’s fingers, “We’ll be together again soon.”

“I can’t wait.” Jaskier grinned, “Now go find that surprise child of yours.”

Geralt laughed, “Farewell Jaskier.” 

“Farewell Geralt.” Jaskier smiled at him.

Geralt gave him one final fond look before letting go of Jaskier’s hand and walking over to Yennefer with Roach. 

Then she opened the portal and between one moment and the next, they were gone.

Jaskier turned around to make his way back into the house, humming a new melody for a song as he went. 

It was just a little love song, but Jaskier thought it would be fun to surprise Geralt with it when he got back. 

Jaskier smiled, he had forgotten how nice it felt to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I wanted to try and smoosh this into canon as much as possible, so everyone is off doing what they were doing at the end of the season, and Jaskier is taking some time for himself to recover. 
> 
> We'll have to wait and see how it all goes down in season 2, but either way Geralt and Jaskier will be reuniting I'm sure. If it goes poorly in the show and I feel its something I need to fix, I may write a follow up to this fic. But only time will tell lol, and that's a long way away. 
> 
> I really hope you all were satisfied with this (very long) final chapter, thanks so much to everyone who commented and gave kudos, it really means a lot.
> 
> Till next time~

**Author's Note:**

> As always when I write, this ended up being much longer than intended, but hey, I hope y'all liked.


End file.
